To Keep It Simple
by emote rellish
Summary: Rated R for future chapters. 6th year- Hermione and Draco must work together to set an example-- but intense chemistry causes complicated problems. -final chapter uploaded-
1. Prologue

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

To Keep it Simple

**Prologue- So It Begins **

"Before we begin the feast—welcome.

Another year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry is soon to begin. For seventh years, I am sure that this is a blessing. For first years—I have no doubt that you will all enjoy yourselves learning the extremities of magic. Those in between—there is a much longer journey before you. Please note that the Dark Forest is off limits to all first years. I am looking forward to another year guiding young and growing witches and wizards. Since there are no further announcements—let the feast and the new school year begin." 

A familiar auburn-haired witch quietly walked past the statue of Boris the Bewildered. She cautiously felt her way along the sturdy wall, hands searching relentlessly in the dark. Her slender digits found the brass handle of the door, locked, like she'd expected.

"Pine fresh," she whispered into the dark. After two years of use, the password was yet to change. As the door slowly peeked open, Hermione slipped in.

_The red engine slowly departed from King's Cross Station, the pistons releasing steam as it pulled away. Hermione smirked as Ron and Harry exchanged Quidditch statistics. Boys will be boys.._

_ "Bugger—I got a petrol-flavored one!" Ron howled, interrupting the intense conversation. He quickly spat the remnants of the jelly bean into the aisle, then tossed a scornful glare at the box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Bean. The compartment door suddenly slid upon and three surprised faces glanced up towards the intruder._

_            "Ron sounded a little peeved in the coach next door—don't tell me. He's finally past denial and now chooses to accept the fact that he's just a Weasel—or should I say, a Weasley."_

She rubbed her temples as she turned on the lights, the glint of the light reflecting off the numerous amounts of marble. Her eyes quickly focused and as she unshielded them, she could make out the rectangular swimming pool impressed into the floor and the diving board that Harry had told her so much about. The Prefects' bathroom-- pure luxury wrapped up in shining glory with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling to top it off. 

            _"Why, it's the infamous ferret—or should I say, Draco Malfoy—that seems to show up whenever he's not wanted. And to what slipshod dit do we owe this punishment to?" Hermione sneered as soon as Draco finished talking. _

_            Two hulking figures shook the compartment as they lumbered in, heavy footfalls nearly knocking Hermione off her seat. A somewhat delighted Goyle and Crabbe stood behind their slave driver, licking out of his palm of commands as puppies would their masters. _

_            "Quite a mouth for a soon to be prefect," Draco sardonically said. Hermione rose a brow, crossing one leg over the other._

_"Ironically stated, but true."_

_Ron had ceased his silent fuming in the corner of the compartment. He stood to his full five foot and eleven inches height, successfully defeating Harry by a full two inches. However, Draco had apparently grown over the summer as well and even as the Slytherin's piercing silver gaze dug into Ron, the Weasley refused to back down. Harry joined his brazen friend in the stand off and the numbers would have been even if not for Hermione's sudden outburst._

Hermione snatched a towel from the corner of the room, tossing a glance at the large golden frame against the wall. A sun bleached mermaid slept lazily atop a seemingly jagged rock, tresses of blonde hair draped across her face and body. Professor McGonagall had advised her to turn the emerald decagon—but with all the varieties of knobs, Hermione couldn't help but satisfy her curiousity. As she moved around the pool, letting different forms of foam and soap drip from each tap, she continued to reminisce. 

_"You all are acting like a bloody hoard of children!" she yelled._

_Ron and Harry turned as did Draco and his thugs, surprised if not reluctant to hear her sudden spurt of feminine emotion. Hermione tucked several stray strands of hair behind her ear, the controlled tresses falling around her shoulders and neck in an expedient manner._

            _"You," she started off, pointing her wand at Draco. "You—are the most boorish, impenitent and dubious knave I have ever been cursed to encounter. Not only do I have to work alongside you for the entirety of this school year, but I also have to deal with your taunts—were you just born this way?"_

_Hermione glared at Draco for what seemed like centuries before she quickly averted her attention elsewhere and left the compartment. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving a quite speechless group of young men._

When the pool filled up, the candles held atop the chandelier dimmed. She slipped out of her soft white bath robe, slipping into the colorful froth of bubbles and foam, the scents mixing as they splashed together simply intoxicating. Hermione sighed, resting her head against her towel, which she perched on the pool's edge. Pulling _Old and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charms _from beneath her robe, she began to read. The light proved too dark, however, and she was forced to use her wand.

 "Lumos," she gently whispered to it, as if she was explaining sweet nothings to an actual being. The wand responded and the tip began to glow lightly, enough to shed light upon the whole page. As she finally got comfortable, body simply oozing with pleasure and releasing all the "built up frustration" Professor McGonagall had claimed that she'd had, she felt the presence of another _thing _in the bathroom with her. 

 "Nox," she heard it whisper, and her wand's light blew out. 

Explanations: Try and imagine with me. Hermione had too much pent up rage and so she was ordered to go relax. It makes no sense why her wand would respond to _someone _else's voice, but it helps move the story along. I'm sure we all know that the best part of reading these romance fanfics is actually getting to read the romance. Future chapters will be much, _much_ longer. Feel free to review.

-Rel


	2. Proper Etiquette

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

To Keep it Simple

**Previous Chapter**

_"Lumos," she gently whispered to it, as if she was explaining sweet nothings to an actual being. The wand responded and the tip began to glow lightly, enough to shed light upon the whole page. As she finally got comfortable, body simply oozing with pleasure and releasing all the "built up frustration" Professor McGonagall had claimed that she'd had, she felt the presence of another thing in the bathroom with her. _

_"Nox," she heard it whisper, and her wand's light blew out. _

**Chapter 1- Proper Etiquette**

Hermione abruptly jerked her head around, fearless brown eyes searching in the darkness. As the room swiveled around her, she slowly began to rise out of the frothy mixture, wand poised defensively.

"Who's there?" she called.

"Calm down, Granger. You wouldn't want to reveal too much flesh, would you?" a voice said from the darkness—accompanied by a smirk that simply dripped with boyish hormones.

"I should have known," Hermione said as she slipped back into the waters. A somewhat pleased Draco Malfoy slunk out of the shadows. He appeared in all his masculine glory—broad shoulders that matched his built chest— though not bulging and speckled with veins-- and a thin waist wrapped in a white towel. His pale skin had seemed to change through the years, a reasonable peach skin color now, and though his platinum blonde hair remained the same tint, he had cut it much shorter. It no longer looked as though he'd received the backlash of an airplane's engine. Hermione saw all but did not care much for it. Turning back to her book, she rested her head against her towel once more, and uttered the familiar incantation to her wand. The tip began to glow once more.

"Are you not at all flattered by my presence?" Draco questioned sardonically. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned towards him, bubbles spinning in spirals about her nape.

"You give yourself too much credit, Malfoy. If anything, it should be the other way around," she replied, a smile dancing briefly on her lips. "What exactly are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in the Great Hall, harassing Gryffindor first years and training the new army of Slytherins?"

"McGonagall tried to send one of the other prefects to join you after you left. Terry and Hannah were.. occupied," Draco said with a grin that danced near the edge of a snarl. "Which left me—and I was more then willing to escort the girl who believes that I am 'boorish', 'impenitent' and.."

"Dubious," Hermione finished for him. Draco cocked a brow, then reached for the towel wrapped around his waist. As he unraveled it, Hermione turned away, eyes concentrated solely on her book.

"Stop acting like such a feverish school girl," he commanded as he saw her shift her attention. "I am not stark naked, Granger. I'm sure you would love that, but contrary to popular belief, I have a sense of etiquette."

Hermione slowly turned to look at Draco. To her relief, he was not lying. He watched her, hands in the pockets of his knee-length prussian swimming trunks. With a sigh, she turned back to her book. Moments later, the sound of water parting to make way for another being could be heard. She could feel his breath on her neck as he settled down alongside her.

"There is an entire swimming pool for you to relax in—go sit in your own corner," she muttered.

"It's much more comfortable for me to sit here, Granger," Draco replied. Hermione slammed her book shut. She had technically stopped reading it as soon as the Slytherin had made his appearance. Even though she had sat with her eyes running over the same paragraph at least twenty times, she had no recollection of what the excerpt was about. Her mind had been on _other_ things.

"Well then, I'll move—you obnoxious git."

She grabbed her towel, robe and book and proceeded to move towards the opposite side of the pool, the water reaching up to her chin. Holding the items above her head, she treaded water and eventually managed to reach the other side.

"Are you afraid of men?" Draco asked with a smirk. He stood up to his full height in the water, the liquid only able to reach as high as his shoulders.

"Of course not!" Hermione said as she set her things down on the marble floor. She turned to face him, but to her surprise, her eyes met his neck. In the time it had taken her to put down her possessions, he had sped through the water to introduce Hermione to his lithe body.

"Really? I find that rather hard to believe considering that you squirm whenever I look at you," he said.

"Malfoy, you are _you_," she said with disgust. She propped her hands on the edge of the pool behind her and pulled herself from the waters. Draco looked away and Hermione immediately softened at his show of respect.

"I'm decent," she slowly said as she turned to grab her bathrobe.

"And that, you are," he replied as his eyes raked over her body.

Hermione regretted having ever felt the least amount of pity for the monster and stood up, her wet swimming suit sending tremors down her spine. She slipped one hand into the robe's sleeves, then the other and knotted the sash.

"Are you coming?" she tossed behind her as she pulled her somewhat dry tresses of auburn from beneath the collar of the robe. Her reply was that of Draco clambering from the waters to search for his towel.

"With you, yes, but beside you, never," he said as he moved himself in front of her. Hermione barely noticed as she tucked her book into her large pocket and unlit her wand.

"You smell rather nice this evening," Ron commented as he glanced at Hermione. He and Harry were once again engaged in an intense game of Wizard's Chess. Several days had passed since the feast in the Great Hall and Hermione's nerves had slowly regained control. After returning from another bath, she felt utterly refreshed and prepared to begin Snape's two parchment long essay on the uses of wolfsbane. Though it was due in a week, she was always one to start on things early.

"Do I usually not smell nice?" Hermione asked inquisitively as she rose a brow. Positioning her quill on her paper, she began scribbling away, eyes darting back and forth between research and parchment.

"Let me rephrase that- you smell _exceptionally_ nice this evening," the chuckling Weasley said. Harry relieved several laughs as well, but quickly silenced as his companion placed him in checkmate once again.

"I've barely made four moves and already—you bloody genius," the Quidditch seeker mumbled beneath his breath. Hermione smiled as she glanced at the redundant scene.

"So Hermione, what _is_ your secret?" Ron asked as he rested his hands behind his head.

"The Prefects' bathroom," she quickly replied.

"Bugger—if I'd known that prefects got their own bathroom, I would have tried harder to become one," he said with a grin. Harry laughed.

"Even if you had tried harder, there would still be no chance for you to be a prefect."

Ron looked thoughtful for several minutes, purposely putting his hand beneath his chin in a stroking fashion. "True."

"Yes, well, unfortunately for me, the prefects' bathroom is open to all prefects, including a Slytherin ferret I'm sure you two are familiar with," she muttered. Ron and Harry immediately sat up in their seats.

"So, have you two met.. in the bathroom?" Ron said as he cleared his throat. Hermione nodded listlessly, her hand moving. She stifled the snicker that arose upon hearing the awkward phrasing.

"And..?" Harry inquired as he moved closer to Hermione.

"Nothing happened," she replied with a shrug. Harry and Ron exchanged glances, then returned to their Wizard's Chess.

Hermione had felt a weight lifted from her shoulders as she'd told Harry and Ron about the events of the previous week. She no longer felt burdeoned with whatever emotion that had been linked to the bathroom incident. When she walked into the Great Hall, all other prefects were already there. Professor McGonagall peered at Hermione through her square spectacles, her withered features holding a stern expression.

"Now that all prefects are here, let us begin the meeting."

Hermione sat down beside Hannah and laced her fingers in her lap. She caught Draco observing her from his seat beside Terry, which was directly across from her.

"The first years this year have been somewhat- incorrectly led. By this I mean—you four prefects have not been setting as much of a example as I would hope you all would."

Hermione began to blush a soft shade of pink, an immediate reflex that occurred when she felt shamed or nervous. She quickly controlled her face's color and watched the professor as she proceeded to lecture them.

"They aren't as hard working as you all once were and prefer playing to studying. Many teachers have complained about their marks. I know that you all must be trying in some manner to teach your house's first years correct mannerism and work techniques—"

Three prefects uneasily glanced at each other while the fourth folded his arms across his chest and smirked.

"—but they aren't _as_ successful as I'm sure they could be. Dumbledore decided that it would be best for the first years if they learned to work with each other. With less conflict between the houses, we can ease tension and the students can focus more on their work. What will happen is that the four of you will pair off differently each evening. After the classes, which Dumbledore has agreed to shorten in order for this event, all first years will return to their houses. There, you four will be waiting for them so that you can lead them to another house. First, Gryffindor will meet with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw will meet with Slytherin. Then Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw will meet while Gryffindor and Slytherin meet. Depending on how well each house gets along, we will shorten or lengthen this experimental period. I suggest that you all meet accordingly to plan what events you all shall present to the first years. Dumbledore trusts each of you with successfully pulling this off—do not disappoint him. Seeing as that the most conflict will probably be between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I suggest that you two, Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, decide on something—together—and quickly. The first session will be three days from now."

With that said, Professor McGonagall turned and left the Great Hall, her robes sweeping behind her. Hermione slowly pivoted to face Draco as she stood up from her seat.

"Well, you heard the woman, off you two go," Terry said wittily. Hermione glanced around the room and sighed. She glared at Draco as she passed by him, heading for the Great Hall's main doors.

"Are you coming?" she spit out as she reached the door. Draco smirked as he shifted his hands into his pockets and followed her down the corridor.

Hermione sat down at an empty table in the far corner of the library. Moments later, Draco pulled back his seat and fell ruggedly into the wooden chair.

"I cannot believe this," she uttered beneath her breath. Her mismatched companion watched her with a raised brow, smiling devilishly as he always did.

"Talking to yourself _again_ Granger? I knew you were insane, but not _this much_ insane.." he said, trailing off as Hermione shot him a death glare. She weakly sighed and tucked her chin into the groove of her palm.

"We could play some sort of game—to let the first years get accustomed to one another," she suggested.

"Yes, and then afterwards we could all sit down for tea and have a lovely little chat about our _feelings_," Draco sarcastically replied. "These are children, Granger, not idiots."

"I wasn't referring to them as if they were _idiots,_ Malfoy," she sneered.

"Obviously, you were, Granger. What game can we let them play that would not allow them the opportunity to attack each other? None that would _not_ make them feel like _dolts_," he said as he rested one arm behind his seat's back and the other splayed across his lap.

"Well," Hermione answered, gritting her teeth to keep from yelling. "Musical chairs."

"What in the name of Merlin's.. a muggle game? Are you purposely trying to turn the Slytherin first year's into a raging mob of children?"

Hermione rubbed her temples as she tried to focus, eyes slightly squinted as she glared a hole into the fine oak of the aging table. Her nerves were slowly beginning to frazzle and soon they would look like her hair had several years ago.

"Well then, you try coming up with a clever idea, Malfoy—and when you finally do come up with one, I'll be waiting for it, sitting in my rocking chair, old and grey."

Draco ignored her comment and sat up, resting his arms along the table. He leaned forward and waited until Hermione finally turned her head up.

"We set the first example," he said, his piercing silver eyes growing faintly with a spark of mischief.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione inquired as her attention was snagged from her.

"We set the first example—by not attacking each other every single moment there is a chance. The Slytherins leave the Gryffindors alone and the Gryffindors leave the Slytherins alone—and seeing as that were are the two prefects—we leave each other alone as well," Draco said. Hermione's brows raised and a look of utter disturbance rose across her features.

"Absolutely _smashing_ idea, Malfoy. By completely ignoring each other, the first years will learn how to work _together_ with their _invisible_ allies! Brilliant, just bloody brilliant," she sarcastically ended. As she rolled her eyes, Draco ran an innocent finger down her cheek. She froze as chills ran down her spine for several seconds.

"_We_ don't ignore each other. _We_ set an example by becoming more then just _friendly._"


	3. Breaking Tradition

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

To Keep it Simple

**Previous Chapter**

_"We set the first example," he said, his piercing silver eyes glowing faintly with a spark of mischief._

_"What are you talking about?" Hermione inquired as her attention was snagged from her._

_"We set the first example—by not attacking each other every single moment there is a chance. The Slytherins leave the Gryffindors alone and the Gryffindors leave the Slytherins alone—and seeing as that were are the two prefects—we leave each other alone as well," Draco said. Hermione's brows raised and a look of utter disturbance rose across her features._

_"Absolutely smashing idea, Malfoy. By completely ignoring each other, the first years will learn how to work together with their invisible allies! Brilliant, just bloody brilliant," she sarcastically ended. As she rolled her eyes, Draco ran an innocent finger down her cheek. She froze as chills ran down her spine for several seconds._

_"We don't ignore each other. We set an example by becoming more then just friendly."_

**Chapter 2- Breaking Tradition**

Hermione immediately pulled back, the chair silently squeaking in protest as it's legs dragged along the floor. She ran a hand down her cheek where his touch had left it's impression.

"You're crazy, Malfoy, crazy," she quickly said as she watched him pull away.

That's exactly what Draco was telling himself as the words had slipped from his lips. It was because of her body, the physical attraction he'd felt when he'd touched her in the swimming pool—that he'd said what he'd said. It had never occurred to him that a mousy girl like Hermione could bloom into a beautiful _woman._ Simply thinking of her as she stood, almost wrapped in her white plush robe, covered in several speckles of water and a two piece swimming suit could drive a man delirious. Not _this _man, though. Draco had a heart of steel and a hard covering that protected him from becoming tenaciously attached to any possession, much less, another being. His first glimpse of her again after the summer had stunned him, but not as much as the bathroom incident had. Without knowing it, Hermione had dented the shield that Draco had worked so earnestly to build around his heart. _It's just raging hormones.. _he reminded himself.

"How else do you think I'll ever earn Dumbledore and McGongall's trust, Granger?" Draco languidly said. For a minute or two, he thought that he'd seen the glow of excitement on Hermione's face. She barely did anything but study, read and write. An awkward pulling sensation ripped through Draco's chest as he saw the feeling shatter and Hermione's expression go blank.

"Of course, _you _would only think up such an idea to deceive more victims," she hissed.

_I am the epitome of idiot.. _Draco told himself.

"Why else would I risk the chance to be seen with a mudblood?" he said, rolling back into his usual Slytherin style. Hermione barely regarded the derrogatory comment. She seemed to be more focused on dwelling on her decision.

"You are just going to have to think up another idea, Malfoy," she said, then turned on her heel and sped out of the library, her robes wavering around her ankles.

Draco stood alone, dumbfounded and speechless.

When Hermione turned the corner to begin her walk down the hallway which bore the painting of the obese pink lady, she caught sight of Draco meandering about, looking very out of place.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed between clenched teeth as she stepped up to him.

"Pursuing an idea," he replied.

"I am not, I repeat—_not_—going to help you trick Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall into believing this—this.. _façade_ that you're trying to pull over their heads. This is a disgrace—I cannot be—"

Hermione was brutally cut off as Draco covered her mouth with his hand. She furrowed her brow and pulled his palm off her lips.

"For such a bookworm, you've got an excruciating amount to say—Granger, this idea could help us both. Not only would McGonagall see how responsible of a prefect you are and consider you eligible for Head Girl next year—but they would also see how _considerate_ of a prefect I am."

Hermione's expression went blank as she went over this idea in her head. Being the Head Girl in her seventh year would definitely force the Ministry of Magic to notice her. Her eyes lit up as the possibilities began to run through her head. Draco obviously noticed.

"How about it then? Is it a deal?"

"I—it's.." she said, looking for any way the plan might not be able to benefit her. Suddenly, chatter broke the silence and Hermione's head quickly jerked to the side. Professor McGonagall was leading a troupe of Gryffindor first years towards the Gryffindor common room. It looked as though a majority of them had gotten into some sort of scuffle. Hermione mentally bet five galleons that they had just been pulled from a battle between two familiar houses.

"Well Granger?" Draco said impatiently as his eyes moved from McGonagall to the first years to Hermione.

"Deal," she said, knowing that she would regret ever letting the word slip past her lips.

"Good," Draco smirked. His hands snaked around her waist and he quickly pulled her in for an awkward embrace. Hermione saw the first years gasp in surprise at the mixture of Slytherin and Gryffindor colors. Slowly, her arms managed to robotically make their way around Draco's neck. Though the first years were easily fooled into believing the two complete opposites were more then just friends, Professor McGonagall was yet to be tricked. She sat, with her arms across her chest, a wiry smile plastered onto her expression. From beneath the hood of her witch's hat, she could see the very uncomfortable and forced grin on Hermione's face.

"Ahem—" she said, clearing her throat while at the same time, adjusting her spectacles. Draco pulled away from Hermione as if on cue and held her at arms length. She tried to play the role that she'd assigned herself by releasing her grip on Draco's neck and relinquishing it on his arms.

"So I'll see you tonight, then?" he asked, a smirk on his face and his silver eyes trying to express mixed messages.

"Y-yes," Hermione replied, stumbling over words.

Draco turned his head down and quickly descended towards Hermione's cheek. He left a feather-light peck on her smooth skin then turned and walked away down the corridor. As he passed by the first years, he caught a wink from Professor McGonagall.

"Treat her with respect, first years, or I'll be on all of you like a pack of graphorns," Draco called out as he turned the corner.

Hermione would have been fuming, if not for the imprint that the kiss had left on her cheek. She rubbed it skeptically, not believing that Draco Malfoy had been on the other end of show of affection.

"I shall leave the first years with you, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said in her rough Scottish accent. Then, soon, she too was gone, her boot heels fading away. Hermione coughed and turned to look down at the wide eyes and unbelieving faces. She opened her mouth to speak, but thought better and turned towards the fat lady.

"Gillyweed," she said, and the portrait swung upon, nearly knocking over several students. "All right, well, hurry inside."

Her only reply was silence. She suddenly realized.. _why should I be the one feeling hot under the collar? After all, this plan will benefit me even more then it will benefit Malfoy._ She cleared her throat and stop wringing the corner of her robe.

"That was Draco Malfoy… a Slytherin," she started, trying to find the right words. "And we are going.. steady? No—that's not right, we are going out—that sounds too cliché.. we are good friends."

She was still greeted by blank stares.

"Merlin's-- All right, I'll explain if you all hurry inside."

With that said, the first years quickly climbed into the portrait hole and headed towards the common room. Hermione followed, her legs feeling as heavy as bricks and her head pounding. It had definitely been a rush when Draco had first pulled her in for the rough hug, but now the rush was gone and Hermione had nothing to work off of. It wasn't often that she lied to the youth in order to manipulate them for her own benefit. When she stepped into the common room, she was greeted by a smoldering Ron and a surprised Harry.

"What's this all about Hermione?" Ron nearly yelled. The first years quickly gathered in a circle around the bickering three, but were rudely chased off by an aggravated Weasley.

"It's a long story, Ron," she said as he eyes darted back and forth. She couldn't risk ruining everything before it even started because of a fiery temper. "Can we talk about it.. _later?_"

Her eyes were pleading but Ron ignored them. Harry placed a hand on his companion's shoulder, worrying about Hermione's insistence. Ron shrugged it off and continued quarreling.

"You and Draco are _good friends?_ I'm sorry, but I don't _ever_ recollect you two having even been just—" he stopped as Hermione clamped a hand over his mouth. With the assistance of Harry, she managed to drag the fuming sixth year into the Boys' dormitory, where they quickly shut the door after making sure that all students had left.

"Ron—stop over-reacting," she whispered sharply.

"What else do you expect me to do? Go running around, flashing the professors and screaming about how I think I've gone crazy?" Ron bellowed.

"Control your temper for five seconds, Ron—Hermione probably has a very logical reason for why she is.. doing what ever she is doing," Harry quickly said, trying to calm down the raging red head.

"Thank you Harry—let me explain. Professor McGonagall asked us prefects to come up with a way to bring the first years closer together. No thanks to our guidance—they are all just a bunch of fighting children that can only bicker instead of focusing on school work. We had to pair off and come up with solutions and _this _seemed like a reasonable one."

"Reasonable?" Ron yelled, his temper rising once again. "Reasonable? What are you trying to do? Horrify the first years into a cease-fire?"

"Of course not. We're trying to show them that a Slytherin and a Gryffindor can get along just as easily as any other two people," Hermione said softly, controlling herself.

"Why not have Draco try and snog some Hufflepuff prefect—or—or the Rav—"

"Ron—you know just as well as I do why it has to be _these_ two houses and not _another_ two houses. You are _not_ helping us move this farther along, _you_ are just hampering this entire experiment with your uncontrollable temper! Try and look at this from a different point of view, not just yours."

With that said, Hermione, tired of fighting, rushed out of the 6th year boys dormitories and back to the common room. Harry watched as she left, the room now completely silent and still. Ron, breathing hard to control his temper, regained his common sense and slapped himself dramatically in the forehead.

"Bloody 'ell, I did it again."

"Obviously, if we can be friends, you all can be friends too, maybe more, who knows," Hermione answered, shrugging her shoulders. The first years fidgeted impatiently with their robes and books, unsure of what direction to head in now.

"If you are all still worried about what to do—don't. We meet with Slytherin in a few days where we will try and see how long you two houses can stand to be together. Yes, I know, they're a ruddy bunch—but Dumbledore wants it so we should at least try."

She sighed and flicked a strand of hair from her face. She could have started her parchment for Charms by now.. even though it technically wasn't due for several days. The first years continued to ask questions, raising hands and staring obtrusively at her as if she was a zoo animal. As she reluctantly answered several more, she caught sight of Harry and Ron walking out of the boys' dormitories from the corner of her eye. They headed towards her and as they pulled to a stop before her, the first years whined in protest.

"Yes, the Slytherins are a bunch of dolts and gits and knaves and—" Ron stopped as Hermione coughed loudly from behind him. "But there is a possibility for friendship between our two houses."

Hermione smiled, having expected Ron to agree with her sooner or later and help her with the cause. She put on her best act, though—and tried to act surprised while at the same time—not surprised. Harry gave Hermione the thumbs-up sign and she slowly stood up to leave.

"We'll handle it from here," Harry said as he took a seat in one of the plush red armchairs.

"Are you Harry Potter?" a frantic first year screeched, her pigtails bouncing back and forth as she examined him. Harry nodded, then smirked.

"Yes, and I personally think that we can all be friends with Slytherin. Take it from me, Harry Potter!"

Ron nearly gagged.

Hermione waved to Lavender Brown as they exited the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The present teacher had been teaching successfully at Hogwarts for the past year and half. He was a very curious figure with large glasses and a pudgy appearance. However, he was consistently jovial and since he reminded so many of the older students of Lupus, a former DADA teacher, they were quick to accept him.

The week had gone well so far. As planned, Slytherins and Gryffindors had kept well away from each other. Surprisingly enough, they even seemed to approve of the relationship Draco and Hermione temporarily had—which lead Harry and Ron to grow more and more suspicious. The two sidled up alongside their brunette friend, but were soon interrupted by a blonde haired familiar.

"Showtime, Granger," he whispered into her ear as a group of Slytherin and Gryffindor first years proceeded to head towards the Dungeons for their Potions lesson. Harry took several steps away and tried to melt into the crowd while Ron stood, fuming.

Draco languished the feeling—the fit of her body. Over the past few days, every single encounter had been one which was meant to impress first years. The previous evening, Slytherin had seemed to get along with Ravenclaw while Hufflepuff and Gryffindor ended up with the same outcome. Tomorrow night would be the true test. All students that were passing by stopped to watch in both curiosity and confusion.

Hermione draped one hand around Draco's neck while he wrapped both of his about her waist. He pulled her towards him, her chest pressing into his. She could feel his heart beating in the distance, a faint _thump thump_ that signified his existence—that proved she hadn't imagined the entire dilemma. His head turned to the side as it came upon Hermione's waiting lips, secretly needy emotions releasing as soon as they touched her corresponding ones. As they both closed their eyes, first years gasped and others watched, already used to the image. Ron, however, still stood where he had five minutes ago, his face turning red with held in rage.

Hermione's lids fluttered open, long lashes casting shadows down her cheek. Draco brushed a strand of hair from her face, purposely letting his hand linger on her skin. The moment ended as quickly as it started and soon, all students returned to what they had been doing before the ecstatic event. Hermione rubbed her thumb along Draco's rough cheek, the touch of invisible stubble soothing. He watched her with his silver eyes while Goyle and Crabbe nervously stood in the background. Realizing that the first years had headed down to Potions to discuss what they had just seen, Hermione quickly pulled away.

"Till later then, Granger," Draco said as he nodded his good-bye. Releasing his grip around her waist and giving her one last glance that nearly tore her sanity—he turned and walked off down the corridor, his massive companions following him.

Hermione, knowing that Harry and Ron were still near, pretended that the moment just shared had meant nothing. She motioned for them to hurry since their break was nearing it's end.

"We'll be late for Charms," she called as she began walking down the hall, her heels clicking on the floor.

"I swear, as soon as this is over, I am going to rip him to shreds," Ron threatened, his voice hollow. Harry roughly patted his friend on the shoulder, looking towards the ground.

"We all will—we all will.."

"That was very believable acting, Draco," Pansy said.

As Draco turned to unwillingly greet her, he nearly gagged at her appearance. Apparently, she had tried to beautify her pug appearance by using muggle cosmetics. The combination nearly blinded him. Her eyelids were coated in a glittering purple layer of eye shadow and she had chosen a flaming pink shade of blush. She reminded him of the French street whores he saw on his vacation there several summers ago. He coughed to hide his surprise.

Returning back to the subject of the scene he and Hermione had caused in front of the entrance to the Dungeons—he had truthfully enjoyed it. The reason was—or so he told himself—physical attraction and the benefit of knowing that he was hurting both Potter and Weasley by taking away one of their most prized possessions. Even though he told himself such things over and over again, with each passing day, he began to believe his own words less and less. If not for the blank stare that Hermione always gave him after each of their risque runs, he would have not believed it all. He tried to focus on the problem before him, but it was hard, considering that every time he looked it in the eye, he felt an utter feeling of disgust. Finally, he found his wits and replied to Pansy's previous comment.

"Yes—acting.."


	4. Progress

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

To Keep it Simple

**Previous Chapter**

_Hermione draped one hand around Draco's neck while he wrapped both of his about her waist. He pulled her towards him, her chest pressing into his. She could feel his heart beating in the distance, a faint thump thump that signified his existence—that proved she hadn't imagined the entire dilemma. His head turned to the side as it came upon Hermione's waiting lips, secretly needy emotions releasing as soon as they touched her corresponding ones. As they both closed their eyes, first years gasped and others watched, already used to the image. _

_"I swear, as soon as this is over, I am going to rip him to shreds," Ron threatened, his voice hollow. Harry roughly patted his friend on the shoulder, looking towards the ground._

_"That was very believable acting, Draco," Pansy said. _

_"Yes—acting.."_

**Chapter 3- Progress**

Hermione sat on the Gryffindor's plush red couch, Draco's arm loosely splayed across her shoulders. While he talked, he innocently toyed with a strand of her auburn hair, curling it around his finger, then letting it spring back to it's original position. He was much friendlier to children then he was to his equals.

Over the past few days, they had been forced into more and more encounters. With each one, though, it began to become less and less awkward. Their plan was apparently working for large numbers of first years would follow the two around whenever they came in contact. Hermione had to secretly admit to herself that she appreciated his company—maybe even enjoyed it. The times when she was free- she either studied or worked on homework, allowing little time for her to go on outings with Harry and Ron. The frequent escapades they had often had during their first few years at Hogwarts now dwindled to meager walks to and from the dining hall—and even then, there were few times that that occurred.

The first years sat quietly, green and black robes mixing with the red and gold ones. They had all taken the notion to greet each other beforehand—since after all, both of their houses' prefects had suggested it. Now, as the common room remained silent and hushed with the only sound being Draco's reassuring voice, all seemed at ease.

"How did you two meet?" the pigtailed girl who now had an uncontrollable obsession with Harry asked.

Hermione's mouth opened, but she could not say anything without thinking of Harry and Ron and how they rarely spoke anymore. She turned towards Draco, who had turned towards her for the same exact reason. A silence ensued and the first years began to whisper, causing other first years to grow impatient. Draco sensed the problem before Hermione could and quickly rose his voice.

"Well," he started off. "We… were at Hogsmeade…"

Hermione pulled up her long legs and swept them beneath her, letting them lay bent along the cushions of the couch. Draco turned his shoulders towards her and she copied his action. The first years hushed and leaned forward to hear Draco as his voice grew softer.

"And after she—slipped.. on a patch of ice—I helped her up and when I saw her, I knew that I had to ask her to go steady with me—and she said yes.." he said, fading off. Hermione watched, amazed at how the words simply flowed out of his mouth like honey. As the first years watched, Hermione and Draco unconsciously moved closer towards each other. Draco impelled forwards while Hermione watched through a hazy focus.

The only one who saw Draco's eyes widen in confusion was Draco himself. He had no reason to kiss her, yet he was doing so any ways. Worries began to escalate from within and he managed to pull himself to a stop when their foreheads touched. Hermione blinked at him, her chocolate eyes almost drowning Draco.

"But then she slipped again—since she was born _clumsy_."

The first years immediately broke into laughter as the auburn-haired witch stared lifelessly into the accommodating pools of gray. He wanted to scream for forgiveness, to take back what he'd said directly into her face, but he couldn't. Instead, his lips pulled into a smirk and he moved back to his languid position. Hermione turned back to face the group of children, somehow managing to hide the look of defeat deep within herself.

Professor McGonagall agreed that the first session between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors had gone well. Even though marks were slowly making their way up, less fights were breaking out and Filch was no longer setting traps intentionally meant for first years. Seeing as that the only problem still existed with those two houses, Dumbledore agreed to have Draco and Hermione act as chaperones for the extracurricular activity planned by Hagrid. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall specifically asked the grounds keeper herself to keep large animals out of the picture.

As two lines trudged out to the Quidditch grounds, Hermione and Draco began conversing.

"How many sessions are left?" Hermione quietly whispered.

"Why the bloody hell are you asking me?" he sharply replied. She rolled her eyes and waved to Hagrid as his massive figure loomed in the distance.

"All righ' ermione', I've got em' under control. Yeh two jus' run along now," he said as he cast shadows along the snow. Several first years watched him, a look of terror hidden in their eyes, while others smiled and awaited their instructions. Seeing as that the children looked moderately safe, Draco stuck out his elbow and led Hermione off the field to a bench nearby.

They watched as the first years were divided into two different groups, a mixture of Slytherins and Gryffindors in each. Hagrid pulled out several boards of uneven sizes, handing the same amount to either team. Hermione remembered this teamwork-building activity from a muggle summer camp that her parents had sent her to. It wasn't too hard of a thing to accomplish, now that she knew how to do so. Draco turned towards Hermione and stared at her as she gazed off into the distance.

"Aren't you the least bit frustrated that you're out here instead of in _there_—studying or writing up a paper?" he asked.

"Actually, no. I love the winter weather and watching first years walk around like clueless gits, surprisingly enough, provides a better source of entertainment then reading," she sarcastically replied. "And you?"

"There's nothing for me to do inside."

Hermione nodded, not wanting to dig further into his answer. She turned back towards the field. So far neither team had made progress and Hagrid was holding two children up by the collars of their robes. They swung back and forth like pendulums as they gathered momentum from their non-stop kicking and fidgeting. Hermione laughed, but quickly covered her mouth with a gloved hand.

"I would have bet anything that if we had done that our first year, you and Harry would be the two first years in Hagrid's possession," she said with a smile.

"Why Potter and not Weasel? He seems like he has it in for me just as much as your other _friend._"

"What do you mean?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"The last time we _put on a show,_ he stood there, fuming like a mother gorilla—he loves you, you know that, Granger?" he said, finishing with a raise of his brow. He threw his hand along the back of the bench, leaving the other one thrown across his lap—his usual lethargic position.

"Of course, I know that—and I love him too. Your point?"

"Not that type of love, Granger," Draco bluntly revealed. Hermione nervously wrung her robe as she thought this over. It was highly possible, considering that they had been friends for so long—but it could not be love, merely a mutual understanding between two peoples. It was probably a phase for Ron.

"Well," Hermione finally answered, taking in a deep breath of cool winter air. "He'll get married, have children, then think back about it and he'll remember it as _just _a crush."

She smiled weakly, trying to reassure herself of this. Draco watched her out of the corners of his eyes. He smiled—somewhat—but when he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, he could only feel tense muscles and nerves.

"Don't think about it," he suggested with a shrug of his shoulders. When they turned back to look, the two teams were neck and neck, halfway across the designated space using the boards as their bridge. Some of them still bickered, but the majority seemed to understand the fundamentals of working together.

"Is that the advice you use when it comes to you and Pansy?" she asked, turning to look at him.

Draco laughed—a convincing chuckle that sent shivers of pleasure down her spine—and turned to look at Hermione, a smile the only remnant of his laughter.

"She looks like an overexcited pug half the time— it's the best advice to use when it comes to remaining sane.."

Hermione laughed and he laughed too—the sound completely new to both of their ears. He was no longer trying to lace his voice with venom or she trying to force her giggles to sound genuine. While Hermione was still trying to control her bouts of laughter, Draco leaned forwards. He cupped her chin in his hand, which immediately silenced her and drew close. She lost herself as he kissed her lips sore, ravishing—gently—all the emotion that he could from her. He needed to know about her—needed to know if she accepted him as he was and not as a prop to gain further access to future occupations. However, before he could receive the console that he so desperately craved, the hoots of first years could be heard. A throng of children began to trample towards them, a dust of snow rising in their wake. Hagrid stood, helpless with several planks of wood in his hands, in the background, left alone on the Quidditch field. The two quickly pulled apart as they were attacked by pint-sized witches and wizards.

In her head, Hermione believed that the kiss had been another show. She'd thought it was something more at first and had almost willed herself to respond in a more soothing way. Draco had pulled away too quickly and too many children had rushed up to ask questions. She felt like she had lost again.

Some of them were soaking wet—Hermione suggested that they go back inside—so Draco led the troupe back to their dormitories. On their way through the corridors to Gryffindor Tower, Draco managed to send off the Slytherin first years to clean themselves up before lunch. It was their free day so what they did after that was none of his business. He held hands with Hermione as he helped her walk the group of first years to their dorms. Plagued with questions and comments, the two barely had any time to discuss anything by themselves.

When they reached the painting of the fat lady, Hermione uttered the password and the "door" swung open. All the first years scrambled inside and headed towards the common room, leaving Hermione outside with a doleful looking Draco.

"I.. will see you later, then," Hermione said quietly as Draco took both of her hands.

"Later.." he whispered to himself, as if he didn't understand the meaning of the word. With innocent eyes, he stared down at Hermione. Like a hawk, he swooped down on her lips. She pressed hers back against his, their tongues dancing a dangerous tango of emotion. They both closed their eyes and for the duration of the brief exchange of broken affection, there were no problems standing in their way. Hearing voices, Hermione pulled away, much to Draco's reluctance. Her lips were sore and her cheeks—probably flushed. She gave Draco a departing glance, knowing that their stares were more then words could ever say. Plus—the truth could only be explained in words and though they already knew what it was, they willed themselves to go against it.

Draco turned and headed down a moving staircase, disappearing before Harry and Ron headed down the corridor. The portrait of the fat lady swung closed right before they arrived before her and once again uttered the password. As they clambered into the room, Harry holding his Quidditch broom and Ron looking rather excited, Hermione slipped into her bedroom, afraid to face the world.

In order for the act to seem even more believable, Hermione and Draco sat together during all meals, surrounded by a variety of students from all four houses. Hermione noticed for the first time while eating dinner that evening—Ron and Harry sat at another table- surrounded by such familiar faces as Thomas Dean and Lavender Brown. Most of the Gryffindors continued to talk with Hermione—but one in particular chose to avoid her more and more as time passed by. While everybody engaged in conversation, Draco turned towards Hermione.

"So you're finally taking notice of Weasel," Draco said. Inside, he felt an indescribable itch that felt like something inside him was being twisted. He wasn't sure of what it was—but he imagined that it was an emotion associated with Hermione and Ron. When ever Hermione looked at her former best friend, the pain would strike Draco's insides again.

"I can't believe I didn't notice before, Malfoy—how long has it been?" she asked.

"About two and a half weeks," he replied. Hermione winced at her own stupidity and ignorance. However, there was little she could do now. As he sat, happily laughing with Harry, he had no doubt deleted her from his memory. Draco had been right about one thing—she _had _loved Ron at one point. She turned and hesitantly prodded the slice of pumpkin pie on her plate with her fork. Draco looked at her uneasiness and laced his fingers with hers beneath the table.

As she turned to glance at Ron one more time, she saw the look of joy on his face. What had she done by agreeing to _this_ plan with Draco? Then again, it was _his_ hand that was alleviating her shattered nerves. By gaining one companion, she had to lose another. In order to prevent herself from shedding pointless tears, she squeezed Draco's hand. He barely showed any signs of pain, if she was strong enough to cause any, and instead, continued laughing with the other members of the table.

When Hermione finally relieved all the stress on Draco's hand, she realized that his fingers were probably lacking the circulation of blood and in severe pain from all her rage. However, to her surprise, she felt a noticeable but faint reassuring squeeze. She turned to Draco, but he was busy putting on a show—to the world.


	5. War of the Houses

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

To Keep it Simple

**Previous Chapter**

_As she turned to glance at Ron one more time, she saw the look of joy on his face. What had she done by agreeing to this plan with Draco? Then again, it was his hand that was alleviating her shattered nerves. By gaining one companion, she had to lose another. In order to prevent herself from shedding pointless tears, she squeezed Draco's hand. He barely showed any signs of pain, if she was strong enough to cause any, and instead, continued laughing with the other members of the table. _

_When Hermione finally relieved all the stress on Draco's hand, she realized that his fingers were probably lacking the circulation of blood and in severe pain from all her rage. However, to her surprise, she felt a noticeable but faint reassuring squeeze. She turned to Draco, but he was busy putting on a show—to the world. _

**Chapter 4- War of the Houses**

Hermione sighed as she watched Harry and Ron play another predictable game of Wizard's Chess. The only attribute missing from the conversation they usually had was—Ron. The previous evening, her dream had been disturbing and had left her awake, confused and awaiting the rise of the sun.

She and Draco had been sitting in the same compartment on the Hogwarts Express. However, nobody else could be found on any of the other coaches, leaving Hermione in a frightful state. She had sat down and had started a conversation with Draco about Ron and Harry—but surprisingly, Draco did not take the opportunity to insult her pair of friends. He had just begun to say something, which Hermione couldn't quite recall, when the train's lights dimmed and flickered out. They were approaching a tunnel and as the train sped into the darkness, Draco had grabbed her hand in a solacing manner. His touch had felt real—but when Hermione jerked out of her slumber, blankets strewn on the floor and pillows placed in a muddle about her, she knew that it had all been in her head.

"So Harry, when is the first Quidditch game?" Hermione asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

"In a few weeks," he replied with a smile. At least _he_ was still _trying_ to remain her friend.

"That should be exciting," she said, wondering why she couldn't speak to the two as well as she could before. A slightly depressing veil covered her thoughts. She missed the witty comments Ron used to spasmodically say and the variety of awkward expressions that he could pull off.

"Professor McGonagall said that there should only be a few more sessions left if the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years continue to improve as they have," Hermione said with a forced grin. For a few seconds, Ron turned to look at her with what she hoped was belief, but he quickly turned away before she could further interpret. Harry slapped his hands on his knees as he once again lost.

"That's good, Hermione—no more pretending!" he said with bottled up excitement.

"Pretending—that's a bloody good one, Harry," Ron muttered beneath his breath. Both shocked companions turned to look at him.

"What makes you believe that I haven't been _pretending_, Ron?" Hermione inquired, eyes slowly turning to a squint.

"Well," he started, summarizing his list in his head, "You two take every chance possible to snog each other and he's always watching you with his beady little eyes—and he ignores his Slytherin _friends_ when ever you're around.."

"Ron!" Hermione nearly shrieked. "That is absolutely the most unbelievable—first off, he does not have beady eyes—and the only thing all of that proves is that he _might_ not be pretending—which I highly doubt—the main point is that _I_ am pretending."

Something stabbed Hermione directly in the chest as she let out the last three words. She knew the feeling quite well—the feeling she got whenever Draco and her were at the edge of finding out the truth about one another—but he would pull away. Even though a faint light of hope glimmered in Ron and Harry's eyes at her words, she could not find any more of a benefit from her uttered words.

"I am just pretending," she said in a voice barely audible. It sounded as if she had just woken—the scratchy and cracking which accompanied the tone of a child before they broke into tears laced into her statement. She was far from crying though—merely at the brink of disbelief.

"Well, now that we've got that all settled," Harry said lightly. "Do you want to come with us to Quidditch practice, Hermione?"

"Of course."

Hermione nervously wrung her robe's corner—a habit that had become familiar to her now. She watched as the members of the Slytherin Quidditch team made their way onto the field. Harry swung off of his broom like an acrobat as he floated to the ground, much like the rest of the Gryffindor team did.

"What are you doing here, ferret boy?" Ron yelled as he jumped from the bleachers. Hermione stood up and gracefully walked down the steps, trying to delay the time it would take to reach the quarreling teams. Several Gryffindor first years had followed the trio to watch a Quidditch practice in action and at the moment they seemed intently focused on Draco and Ron.

"Calm down, Ron," she hissed from between her teeth as she tossed her hair in the direction of the audience. Draco turned to her, then caught sight of the first years as well.

"I'm sure we can come up with a reasonable decision, _Weasel_," Draco replied, his voice growing softer as the first years took the initiative to get closer to the fight.

"We have this time slot booked for _Gryffindor_ practice," Harry said as politely as possible, taking notice of the youth that had somehow surrounded them. "Maybe your team made a mistake—"

"I am more then positive that this time slot is booked for _Slytherin _practice," Draco interrupted.

"Obviously, you are _deaf _because who ever told you—must have said that your practice time was _after _ours," Ron smugly stated.

"_Weasel.._ why don't we.." Draco started, glancing at Hermione, then at the first-years, "Work.. something out. I am sure that we can find a solution."

"Yes, Ron," Harry answered, placing a hand on the red head's shoulder, "We can figure something out."

Hermione coughed loudly, her eyes shifting towards the first years. Ron was still slow to catch on and instead, seemed completely ignorant of the amount of tense nerves floating about. He grabbed Draco by the collar, much to Hermione's dismay, and pulled him close.

"This is _our _practice time, git," Ron sneered loudly. Hermione slapped her hand on her forehead, hearing the first years whisper anxiously to one another. Draco's nostrils flared as he did his best to keep a fight under wraps. Hermione admired his self-control and the amount of effort he put into remaining a role model—while Ron seemed intent on destroying the fragile work of which the two prefects had so earnestly created.

"I'm sure that this is the way you fight for leftovers at your house, Weasel, but here—we use words," Draco replied with a snarl. Hermione inwardly groaned as she predicted Ron's next action. As the rage boiled over, Ron threw Draco to the ground and lunged for an attack. The crowd quickly glanced back and forth, then seeing the two opposing houses break into battle, began to exchange punches and kicks as well. Hermione knew that her presence could do nothing to stop the war, so she quickly ushered the first years off the field with her. They seemed ready and prepared to fight along their Gryffindor comrades' sides. Hermione thought over the entire dilemma in her head.

There was no possible way that Draco would initiate a battle on purpose—especially since he had regarded Ron with such a calm, but forced, expression. Harry and the rest of his Gryffindor team could also not be wrong since—they rarely were and had no reason to interfere with the Slytherin practice time. Not only that, but Professor McGonagall had arrived to personally tell them of—Hermione struggled to hold in a scream. This had been a test of the houses' endurance and they had failed horrifically, with no thanks to the fiery red head who she had worked so hard to gain back—as a friend. She warned the first years to stay put, then ran quickly back onto the field.

The first battle she caught sight of was Ron and Draco as they tumbled about on the ground, hitting each other ferociously. She did not want to use her wand in fear of letting the first years think that only force could be used to handle this type of situation.

"Stop it!" she screamed at the two, her voice piercing the scuffle. For the briefest moment, Draco stopped his punching and turned to look at her. All Hermione needed was a few seconds and when she was given the opportunity, she slid in between Ron and Draco. Ron, however, was still eagerly moving to keep the fight going and did not notice Hermione's insertion into their battle. Her back faced him so it took even longer for Ron to filter her as a pacifist and not an opponent. Unable to stop the momentum of his hand, he moved with the uncontrollable force. His fist connected with the side of her head.

Hermione's eyes widened as the blow knocked her several steps to the side. It was a rather awkward moment—she felt like she was floating and had no control of her limbs. Her eyes fell to the ground and suddenly her world was spinning and she was tumbling along with the flow. She managed to see the blurry figure of Ron as he rushed towards her, yelling his apologies. Her brow furrowed as she tried to focus on the figures before her. Never had she felt so frustrated at not being able to control herself. Before she was swept away into the darkness, Draco's solacing hand caught hers.

Ron watched in utter horror as Draco shoved him away, grabbing the falling Hermione. He hoisted her light body into his arms, glaring menacingly at the Weasley. He seemed to warn with his eyes.. _stay away._ The fight immediately broke apart at the sight of their only neutral member being carried away by a Slytherin. First years moved to follow the pair, shooting glances behind them.

Harry turned towards Ron—who had fallen to his knees. The members of the fight looked squeamish now, unsure of what havoc they had just created. Many of them blamed it on Ron, shoving him rudely in the shoulder as they passed him to return to the castle. Finally, the only students left were a very battered Harry and a depressed Ron—the two friends who should have been the first to head back. Even though Harry's faith in Ron had petered out, he was still bonded to the boy through the thin sliver of friendship left.

"It's all my fault, Harry," Ron said, looking at his hands as if he could finds answers in the blood and dirty covered palms.

For once in his life, Harry did not have an answer.

Hermione awoke to a pounding head ache which heightened with the amount of lighting shed in her direction. Someone turned the swivel head lamp in a different direction. As she blinked to try and get herself to focus, a rather pudgy hand forced chocolate into her mouth. She choked a bit as she digested the sweet product, then closed her eyes. When her senses finally came rushing back to her, she met the ceiling with her cold stare.

"Granger," a soft voice called from her bedside. She turned to look at the source, barely surprised to see Draco. His fingers were laced about one of hers, his outstretched thumbs holding up his chin. His elbows were propped on her mattress. Finding reassurance, she closed her eyes again to fall into slumber.

"Bloody hell, you just went to sleep—wake up," he said, a hint of sarcasm linked with his voice.

"Mr. Malfoy! Watch your mouth or I'll wash it out with soap—let the poor girl sleep," a frazzled Madame Pomfrey screamed from halfway across the room. Hermione opened her eyes in time to see Draco roll his. She used her free hand to push herself into a sitting position.

"How do you do it, Malfoy?" she asked weakly.

"Do what?"

"Survive Ron," she answered with a smile.

Draco didn't smile or laugh. Hermione then noticed the scars and cuts across his face and some of the swelling on his knuckles—she remembered the entire reasoning behind the fight.

"You know, Professor McGonagall was behind all of this," Hermione said. Draco nodded as he let go of her hand to steeple his fingers in thought.

"Yes.. I should have known—after all, she's not even the head of our house and she came to _personally_ tell us about our practice time slot."

The witch sighed and let the numbing affects of the chocolate take over. She knew the pain was there but she could no longer feel it—she could only sense the swelling that seemed to be taking over her mind. Her thoughts ran back to her dream. She needed to find out what it meant—but the problem at hand was more important. Sigmund Freud would have to wait.

"She wanted to test how well Gryffindor and Slytherin would do under pressure. To tell you the truth—I think.. Dumbledore told her to tell both houses—after all, what better way to make sure that the bond that's being formed is genuine?"

"And they learned that it's not," Draco numbly replied. It was these short periods of time that Hermione actually saw the Draco that could have been—if not for his upbringing or the shield that protected him from promise and all other assurances in life. Hermione admittedly hated Ron at the moment. His short temper and lack of common sense had possibly ruined two prefects and the almost existent relationship between two houses. As soon as she got her hands around his neck—she chose to not think of it. Her chance to become anything, to her, had flown out the window. She'd been left empty-handed and absolutely worn out after weeks of preserving and nurturing a growing relationship.

"We failed as prefects," Hermione bluntly said, expression blank.

"I wouldn't speak so soon, Miss Granger."

Hermione walked to the library by herself after dinner. She had managed to escape the crowd of first years and Draco to find relief in the one place that she had always found it.

_Professor McGonagall had been watching her recovery the entire time from the shadows. _

_"Poppy, could you give us a moment?" she asked politely, folding her hands in her lap. The nurse smiled and quickly walked out, closing the door loudly behind her. Draco glanced up at the professor, showing no surprise—as always._

_"Miss Granger, you are not the problem, but the solution. If you do recall, I believe Mr. Weasley was the one who took the initiative—to break the tension. Mr. Malfoy, we admire your self control—however, as well as you did—you could have done without the intimidating comments. Dumbledore and I believe that there still is a chance for the houses to reform this broken relationship. We hope that one of you will talk with Mr. Weasley—if he does not learn to control his temper, we will be forced to have him change houses.."_

_Hermione nodded her head. She secretly scolded herself for having even thought of letting Ron not know just to have him leave Gryffindor. It was the held in rage that continued to taunt her. _

_"Our next session will be this evening. First, you two should explain the reasoning behind the fight on the Quidditch field. I am sure that news has already spread to other first years—and it is essential to eliminate the problem before it progresses. I leave you two to discuss tonight. Once again- you did not fail as a prefect, Miss Granger, nor you, Mr. Malfoy. So long as Dumbledore and I believe that the children have learned something about cooperation in all of this, you will continue to remain prefects." _

_With that said, the elderly witch swept out of the room. Hermione blinked, half in disbelief and half in confusion. It was as if she had been rejuvenated, but dealt a dangerous hand at the same time. _

_"So I imagine you'll take to Weasley?" Draco said with an inquiring raised brow. Hermione nodded._

As she walked in, a very flustered Madame Pince waved to her, trying to juggle a new stack of books at the same time. Hermione headed directly for the back of the room to focus on her school work. As she set her bag down, she remembered the dream she'd had the previous evening.

She thumbed through the pages of Sigmund Freud's _An Interpretation of Dreams._

_Tunnels.. here they are.. _she thought to herself as her index finger slid across the page. _Tunnels can represent an invitation by the conscience.. can represent exploration of new places.._

Hermione froze as she read the next interpretation. Of course, it was very possible—but she felt extremely awkward reading it. Maybe this was what she wanted—but she had never been so dangerously risk-taking. She regarded the words, but each time she read it over again, they held a different meaning. Without thinking, she grabbed her bag and left the library. Madame Pince watched the frantic witch disappear down the corridor.

The final interpretation at the bottom of the page was tempting. As she dashed down the hallways to return to Gryffindor Tower before the Slytherin first years arrived, she heard the words run non-stop through her head.

_The most popular interpretation—where as a train or car and or other vehicle enters the tunnel can represent sexual intercourse or the conscious need for physical and or sexual attention. _


	6. Revelations

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

To Keep it Simple

**Previous Chapter **

_She thumbed through the pages of Sigmund Freud's An Interpretation of Dreams. _

**_Tunnels.. here they are.._**_ she thought to herself as her index finger slid across the page. **Tunnels can represent an invitation by the conscience.. can represent exploration of new places..**_

_Hermione froze as she read the next interpretation. Of course, it was very possible—but she felt extremely awkward reading it. Maybe this was what she wanted—but she had never been so dangerously risk-taking. She regarded the words, but each time she read it over again, they held a different meaning. Without thinking, she grabbed her bag and left the library. Madame Pince watched the frantic witch disappear down the corridor._

_The final interpretation at the bottom of the page was tempting. As she dashed down the hallways to return to Gryffindor Tower before the Slytherin first years arrived, she heard the words run non-stop through her head._

**_The most popular interpretation—where as a train or car and or other vehicle enters the tunnel can represent sexual intercourse or the conscious need for physical and or sexual attention. _**

****

**Chapter 5**- **Revelations**

Draco shook his battered head as he tried to recollect his thoughts. The simple magnetism he felt when he stood around Hermione shook him to his core, new feelings always arising that made him feel vulnerable and insecure. He had to put an end to them for the sake of his morals and the sake of his family name. He had run head first into his plan believing that physical attraction would forever act as his cause. Even as he touched her, kissed her, felt unwanted emotions when around her—he guaranteed himself marital freedom in the days to come. She hadn't _become_ apart of him, as an accusing Weasley had said.

_"Ferr—Malfoy, we need to talk," Ron called, rushing down the deserted corridor. Draco slowly turned, brow raised in suspicion, books clutched loosely at his side. _

_ "Weasley—if you're looking for a loan, I don't **donate** to the poor. You of all people should know that they're not very reliable," he said with a grim snarl upon his features. He was tempted to annihilate the red-haired crackpot before any more mishaps could unfortunately take place—and cause the structure of his plan to crumble even more. Ron's face slowly turned a red shade, but surprisingly enough, he controlled his growing anger._

_ "It's about Hermione, you arse," he managed to say between gritted teeth._

_ "I'm listening," Draco replied rather calmly. _

_ "Is she okay?" Ron asked._

_ Draco thought the answer over in his head, pondering how to best word his statement and inflict the most pain at the same time._

_ "She got better after I tended to her."_

_ "What is that supposed to mean, Malfoy?"_

_ "I gave her some _sexual_ healing," Draco responded, his laugh echoing through the hall. Ron's eyes widened in a mixture of disbelief and hatred as he launched himself towards the opposed, snatching his collar in the all too familiar action._

_ "Ah ah ah—" Draco began, waving his index finger back and forth as if he was speaking to an animal. "You wouldn't want to find yourself in even deeper water with Professor McGonagall, would you?"_

_ Ron immediately let go of the Slytherin, purposely adding force into the push. Draco took a step back, then straightened his uniform tie with a brief smirk._

_ "You just keep away from her—it's obvious that the charade you two are trying to fake isn't _pretend_ anymore—or at least not with you," Ron said with a sneer._

_ "And what exactly do you mean by that, Weasel?" Draco said, stopping before he could fully turn to face the opposite direction._

_ "Don't act stupid with me," Ron threatened._

_ "Wouldn't it be more convenient for you though—for me to speak at your level?" Draco said with a laugh._

_ Ron ignored the tasteless comment and continued, noticing that Draco was trying avoid the topic entirely._

_ "You're attached to her, aren't you? You thought that you could pull this off, easy, no complications and all the more benefits for you—but you didn't _imagine _ending up like this—unable to get her out of your mind.. she's attached to you now, isn't she?"_

_ "You're speaking like a deranged git. I suppose it runs in the family," Draco answered with a shrug. Ron dared to take a step closer, his finger pointed out and accusing. He raised a brow as he did so, a smile on his face._

_ "You—" Ron started, shoving the pad of his finger into Draco's chest, "Love- her."_

_ With a cocked brow, the Slytherin took another step back. Ron dropped his hand at the lack of his response, a startled expression beginning to slowly spread over his features._

_ "I'm afraid you have lost ever single grain of common sense left in that head of yours, Weasley. The only way that she could ever become attached to me is by way of my pe—" _

_ Ron launched forward again, grabbing Draco once more by the throat._

_ "I dare you to finish that, I dare you, Malfoy," he said as he narrowed his eyes and bundled his hand into a fist. Draco smirked, barely feeling the brunt force of Ron._

_"By way of my peni-"_

_"What's going on here?" a voice suddenly called from down the corridor. Filch clambered down the hall, one eye giant with suspicion and the other narrowed with pure hatred for all youths. Ron quickly let go of Draco, who proceeded to dust himself off with the casual air that he performed all other actions with. _

_"A misunderstanding," Draco said, a threat laced into his glare. Ron sneered and finally complied._

_"Yes, a misunderstanding."_

Hermione waited for the Slytherin first years at the door to the Gryffindor common room, unconsciously praying that Draco would not show. As she saw him turn the corner, she silently cursed to herself. He slid up alongside her, slipping his hand onto the lower of her back. When all of the first years finally climbed in, he pulled away as suddenly as he had sidled up by her and headed into the common room himself. Hermione, confused but relieved, disregarded the lack of conversation and followed him.

Draco fell into his seat, completely unaware that he had chosen to sit in an armchair where there was little room for Hermione. She saw this, ignored it and moved to sit on the edge of the plush red couch of which the two usually sat. The first years took notice of this, but said nothing as they gathered around the feet of Hermione—and not Draco.

"Did it hurt?" a curious Gryffindor girl asked. Hermione touched the side of her head where Ron had inflicted the deadly blow. A dark blue bruise would probably be taking up the side of her head if not for the chocolate that Madame Pomfrey had so considerately fed her. Even though the external appearance was missing, the internal pain was magnified beyond belief. The only way Hermione kept herself focused was by telling herself that she had been through far worse—which she had slowly begun to believe was the truth.

"Just a bit," she lied. "It feels like.. there's a constant tapping on my skull."

Obviously the news had spread about the horrendous fight that had taken place on the Quidditch field. The first years were reacting quite reasonably in response to the contradicting information presented to them.

"Are there any.. questions?" Hermione asked as she leaned her non-pained side of her head on her propped up hand. The room was completely silent. One prefect felt awkward, while the other smirked.

"None? At all?" she inquired again. No hands rose and no sounds were spoken.

"I don't quite understand what happened," another Gryffindor girl said. The other first years around her hissed and tried to silence her while Hermione looked on in grim hatred. Her intuition was screaming. They were not acting polite and quiet because they wanted to—but because somebody was making them.

"Draco, _dearest, _a word if you will?" Hermione managed to get out as she forced her teeth to unclench. This was one of the few occasions where she used his first name when speaking. Draco climbed out of his armchair and with his hands stuffed into his slacks' pockets, he neared her.

"What did you tell them?" she sneered when they finally managed to separate themselves in a corner of the common room. The first years sat quietly, afraid of whatever punishment had been placed before them.

"Nothing, Granger, surprised that they're acting _civilized_? Your guidance was leading them _nowhere._"

"Now you listen here, I did not waste time snogging you to get this far and have you ruin my reputation. If you have told them one tiny bit—one minuscule amount of slander—I will have Professor McGonagall on your case for that prefect badge in _no time_," she hissed beneath her breath.

"Tsk—empty threats. You should be bursting with joy at this change—they're not asking you too many questions, are they? And they're not pestering you about unwanted memories.. just admit that this time around—my word was the one to save our arses."

With that said, Draco pivoted and casually walked back to his single seat. Hermione allowed herself several moments to steam away the frustration, then returned to the awaiting first years. She fell into her seat and watched as all attention shifted to her once more.

_Hermione slept peacefully that evening. With her hands splayed along her plump pillows, she dozed. Her blankets swept about her body, covering her like water. The sun was yet to replace the moon, it's rays barely reaching the horizon. She tossed her head, strands of silk auburn sliding along the sheets. _

_"Wake up," a voice silently called from one of the hidden corners. With lithe movements, Hermione sat up in her bed, eyes refusing to focus. As she swept a hand over her lids, she caught sight of the all too familiar face of Ron. Her brow furrowed, her arms moving to cross over her chest._

_"What are you doing in here, Ron?" she said angrily. Ron neared the bed very slowly, departing from his sanctuary of darkness. Bags lay beneath his eyes and his red hair was tousled. _

_"I have to save you," he mumbled, clutching onto the edge of the blankets as he stumbled. Hermione climbed out of the bed and stood, opposing him. He narrowed his eyes and tried to stagger around the canopy bed. _

_"From what?" Hermione asked as she quickly stumbled back onto her bed, slipping off the other side._

_"Stop running or else—or else—he'll get you and he'll get you.. and he'll get you," Ron replied weakly._

_She glanced over at Ron, figuring that he was stuck in some sort of drunk stupor. With a sigh, she walked over to his side and patted him on the shoulder._

_"Calm down—go get yourself some res—"_

_Ron lunged towards Hermione, knocking her to the ground. He placed his hands around her throat and stared down at her, his eyes filled with an insecure madness._

_"You're c—choking me," Hermione managed to utter as his digits clenched down on her soft skin. Ignoring her pleads, he pulled her up by her neck and stared menacingly into her terror-filled eyes._

_"I have to save you—from Draco.." he whispered, then slammed her head down into the floor._

Draco awoke in a cold sweat. Without thinking, he launched from his bed, knocking his sheets to the floor. Dressed in only a pair of dark green boxers, he rushed to the window, snatching his broom from it's post. He pushed open the gold frame with nervous motions, then grabbing his wits, threw himself from his room's window.

Hermione woke up to the loud fidgeting from outside her window. She allowed her vision to focus, but regretted doing so moments later. An all too familiar Slytherin burst in as he finally unlocked the window, stumbling into Hermione's room.

"What in the devil are you—"

She was cut off as Draco lunged towards her, tightly winding his arms around her nimble body, then releasing her. Hermione froze at his touch, his skin frigid with the torture of the winter's evening weather. When he finally released her, she gave a hasty glance to her muggle clock.

"It's two in the morning, Malfoy—what are you doing here—and you're absolutely freezing," she scolded.

Draco swallowed as he tried to gather his breath. His excruciatingly speedy escapade had left him breathless and yearning for a specific reward—one that he doubted he would receive.

"You—I dreamt—I thought.." Draco uttered as he tried to get his thoughts together. It was hard when his entire body was shivering from cold and his circulation refused to kick into gear.

"Oh—come here you big git," Hermione commanded with a furious expression. She pushed off her blankets and padded over to Draco, grabbing his icy wrist with force. He tripped as she pulled him forward, his body doing little to acknowledge the witch's actions. She gently pushed him onto her bed but he did not allow her to place him into any further positions. He sat on the canopy bed's edge and stared upwards at her cherubic face.

"Well—what're you staring at? Get warm, you oaf—you'll catch a cold," she blurted out, feeling awkward.

Draco reached out his hands and grasped onto her waist. He pulled her forwards, her body fitting perfectly between his legs. She jumped at his freezing touch and tried to remove his digits with her own. However, she could not budge his fingers as they clutched to her. The coldness quickly moved through her nightgown, biting her skin and causing her to shiver herself. He placed his forehead against her abdomen, then pulled back several inches. He repeated the action over and over again—a rocking motion that sent shivers down Hermione's spine. She stared down at him as his hands grew warm from the heat radiating from her body.

"Malfoy?" she asked to reassure if the stranger before her was really the boy who had so harshly insulted her less than 24 hours ago. The change seemed too abrupt- too sudden—it wasn't realistic.

"Hermione," he replied, the sound of her first name dancing on his tongue. She blinked in surprise and pulled back rather forcefully, his grip finally loosening and letting her free. His hands moved to rest over his knees, turning his palms to ice once more.

"Is this some sort of joke? Is the Slytherin Quidditch team waiting outside? Is the entire Slytherin house riding on brooms outside my window this very minute? Say something, Malfoy!" Hermione yelled.

Draco slowly turned up to look at her, shaking his head. Hermione continued to move towards the door, her eyes watching him the entire time. If he wasn't going to give her an explanation—then she wasn't willing to stay. It wasn't that he scared her—not at the least. She worried if the entire scene had been set up in hopes of humiliating her—in hopes of discovering her vulnerability and spreading it ruthlessly about. She melodramatically admitted that this had been the exact moment she had dreamt about, but dreams were meant to be yearnings of the human mind—not actual premonitions for the coming reality.

"I.. I think," he said quietly, a harsh whisper that nipped at Hermione's patience. She slowly turned the knob as it jabbed into her back, her chest rising with slow and even breaths.

"I can't stand this—I have to leave," she said silently as she turned to fumble with the door, forgetting she had locked it using her wand—which she conveniently kept on her nightstand. Draco suddenly rose from behind her, bending his head to rest his lips by her neck—his breathing almost at the point of soothing.

"Don't leave, Hermione. I dreamt—a nightmare.."

Hermione silently cursed. Dreams, the source of all their problems, worries and actions. She wondered if this was fate's comical way of bringing two beings together. If it was, it was barely enough to make Hermione smile, if not laugh. She did not bother to ask what Draco had dreamt of, his bearings his own problems—as her burdens had been her own. Hermione decided to avoid the entire subject completely—moving on to the second most obvious topic at hand.

"You're freezing," she said, his chin even cold to the touch. She turned and met his chest with hers. Draco exploded with impatience.

His lips came down upon hers, relentless and searching for the drug that could solve his craving. He was addicted to the uncontrollable urge that he was supposed to be so strongly opposed to. His family's morals suddenly became synthetic to him, a useless list of rules that kept him confined in the box his father had created for him. He could feel her body's reaction beneath the thin layer of night gown that she wore—his body moments away from responding. His body was chilled and he could only feel the perfect fit of her against him—his limbs and finger tips too numb to cooperate. One hand roamed down her back, while the other raked through her smooth tresses of auburn. The intoxicating scent wafting from her hair was enough to send him spiraling, endlessly and out of control.

He felt her hands slowly running up the expanse of his chest, the smooth and extruding muscles barely rough terrain for her neediness. She finally reached his cheeks with her hands, controlling the movements of his head. With their eyes closed tight, they fell into a dream—together, where no problems haunted them and no worries sucked their hopes from them. Draco found his external answer, but he wanted more, more from the girl he had vowed to humiliate and taunt for the rest of his life. It was no longer a battle about egos and intelligence. A month's worth of time had been enough to entwine the two prefects.

His arousal suddenly alerted Hermione to her senses. She pulled back, her eyes intense with confusion and perhaps regret. With her hands clutched to his face, his own somber eyes staring down at her, half closed with a drugged slumber, they fell back into reality.

"I think I—" Draco started, his voice ragged, but Hermione quickly silenced him with her hand. He was still cold, a slight disappointment. He kept his hand tangled in her hair and his arm around her waist. Not now—when they were so close. He was sure that if he said it, they could get the entire ordeal over with. The temptation and passion that drove the two wild was slowly breaking from it's bonds and even Hermione had to admit to herself that it felt _good_. She had to defeat the growing allure in order to maintain her self control. The questions she had seemed pointless now.

"You're freezing," she reminded him. He nodded, her hand still placed protectively about the words she dared him not to say. She pulled his hands from her and led him towards her bed—only intending on preventing him from catching pnemonia. As they burrowed under the sheets, sitting up atop the feather light mattress, she pulled her hand away, reassured that he would speak no more.

"Love you," he dragged out. Hermione wanted to slap him and force him to take it back, but it was of little use. After all, what's said was said and what he felt for her was none of her business. He could dig his own grave. However, it hurt to lead him on like this. She turned towards him, unbelieving of the transformed Slytherin before her. It felt like a dream, but she knew it wasn't. She couldn't play this role any longer.

"No, you don't."


	7. Frozen Inside

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

To Keep it Simple

**Previous Chapter **

_"I think I—" Draco started, his voice ragged, but Hermione quickly silenced him with her hand. He was still cold, a slight disappointment. He kept his hand tangled in her hair and his arm around her waist. Not now—when they were so close. He was sure that if he said it, they could get the entire ordeal over with. The temptation and passion that drove the two wild was slowly breaking from it's bonds and even Hermione had to admit to herself that it felt good. She had to defeat the growing allure in order to maintain her self control. The questions she had seemed pointless now. _

_"Love you," he dragged out. Hermione wanted to slap him and force him to take it back, but it was of little use. After all, what's said was said and what he felt for her was none of her business. He could dig his own grave. However, it hurt to lead him on like this. She turned towards him, unbelieving of the transformed Slytherin before her. It felt like a dream, but she knew it wasn't. She couldn't play this role any longer._

_"No, you don't."_

**Chapter 6- Frozen Inside**

"What?" Draco asked, brow raised.

"You can't expect me to believe all of this, Malfoy. You ride in on a broom, freezing cold, you barely notice that your body temperature could classify you as dead.." Hermione quietly continued. "You're leaving me miles behind—I don't know where you are right now but I can tell you—I can't be there _with _you if you don't explain yourself."

"Come on, Granger!" he sneered as he reverted to his Slytherin ways as quickly as he had left them behind. "For once, leave behind your books and stop acting the part of the frigid—witch."

Both of them knew the true meaning behind his words. Hermione had to give him credit though- at least he wasn't as painstakingly trying to ensure that pain had been dealt in her direction. She quickly pulled her hand up, aiming it towards his cheek—hoping that her lightning movements would send enough sense through Draco's tangled thoughts.

He placed his own hand several inches from his cheek, the sound of her palm hitting his skin shattering the tension that had been so tightly bound between them. Hermione's digits immediately curled around his hand as she tried to pull it away. It came as no surprise when he refused to budge—her petite body against his trained one wasn't exactly an even battle. Her chest heaved grimly in defeat—the build up of the mixture of excitement and frustration reaching it's peak.

"You can hit me all you want—I won't stop you—but I promise you this, Granger, what ever you say, what ever you tell me—will not make me change my mind. So go ahead and slap me."

He removed his hand and Hermione quickly let go of it. When she turned to face him again, his head was turned down and she could see him shivering, a barely noticeable and controlled action that he forced his body to deal with. She suddenly reached out with both hands, her palms tensing as they touched his cold cheeks. It wasn't how she had planned any of this, but with cat like reflexes, she pushed herself forward along the sheets, colliding with his body. Her lips immediately sought his and as she'd expected, he was quick to return the unexpected but wanted action. His body was still abnormally cold. The emotion that had sent her flying towards him had been a composition of both intense caring and the heat of the moment—which would have seemed coincidentally humorous if not for the serious danger that Draco was in. She pulled her arms farther around his neck, her elbows laying level with his shoulders. He pulled away, the sound of their lips parting both torture and relief.

"You're—you're freezing, Draco," she said as she tried to take in deep breaths of control.

"Say that more often," he replied. Hermione looked at him, puzzlement revealing itself beneath the layers of blush.

"Draco—it sounds better when _you_ say it," he softly mumbled into her throat. His gentle caresses sent her spiraling back into the plethora of ecstasy, his teeth nipping weakly at her nape and ear. She had lost total control of her actions and though she knew she would regret it—she could not help but look _forward _to it as well. They began to slip farther beneath the covers, their sitting positions inconvenient for the answers that they craved.

She half led him and he half guided her, her head resting comfortably atop one of the many silk pillows strewn across the mattress. He pulled up and stared down at her, never having felt such tightening in his chest before. He wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like—an unwanted clenching that refused to let go. At least he was warming up from both Hermione's body heat and the thick blankets that were layered one atop the other on the bed. He enjoyed the way his name slipped off her tongue—as if she hadn't meant to care when saying it but had unconsciously filled it with so much emotion that it could only have meant one thing.

Even though his fingers were no longer blocks of ice, Hermione still felt chills as he ran his hand down her spine. She felt awkward under his stare—like his prey. When she tried to turn her head away, Draco quickly turned it back so her eyes could face him. He leaned over again, devouring her with his eyes—the unfamiliar territory that had beckoned to him for so long seeming so deliciously tempting. With precise movements, his lips were on hers again, fingers traveling along the curves of her body, reaching her even through the flimsy night gown she still wore. His tongue craved attention from hers, yearning but non-forceful at the same time. He received a high with every noise she made—her satisfaction pushing him on. It was wrong, horrifically unplanned and definitely not expected—but what were they to do now? He had already thrown away his chance to escape eternities ago. He felt her hands running through his hair, her touch on his nape and head sending nonstop ripples of pleasure down his spine.

Hermione's eyelids begin to drop, her body giving into the wanted craving. She needed the reassurance and the proof from a suitor that she would never have dreamed of in any of her lifetimes. She could feel the familiar arousal that had broken them apart before, but it no longer frightened her as much. Her hand dared to dance down his arm, bounding across muscles, and landing ever so calmly atop the drawstring of her boxers. Draco suddenly ceased his actions and looked down at her with knowing eyes, unsure of whether to progress.

"I—Hermione—" he stuttered out, trying to gather his wits together.

She didn't need to think twice- though she really should have. All the problems that would for sure come of this action were no longer on her mind. The chance to simply touch him, discover him—be with him—excited her senses more then they had ever been excited in the sixteen years of which she had existed. She let the words slip from her tongue.

"Under one condition," she whispered. "You stop—whenever I ask you to."

Draco was more then sure that he could do that. When she finally nodded in her consent, his hands went searching, feather light touches atop her flat stomach and waist, pulling up the nightgown. He managed to quickly remove the article of clothing, tossing it to the ground with little care, his body now warm with both passion and heat. Hermione was slow to pull off his boxers, hands running down the expanse of his chest. She reached the band and tauntingly ran her fingers along it's rim, earning herself several grunts of impatience. Finally, she pulled them down far enough for him to kick them off himself, losing them among the sheets. He was no longer interested in the body that had fascinated him for weeks—just the woman behind the shield of coy genius. Hermione had never felt such an intense realization in her chest as she did now—and it frightened her beyond her imagination. Even as her heart fluttered about her insides, knocking the air from her lungs, she could not keep her eyes off of his. She let her fingers graze down his back, the only sound breaking the silence—their ragged breathing. He was still unsure of whether to proceed, she could see it in his crazed expression.

Hermione breathed her approval and slowly, but surely, he initiated the introduction of their bodies. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Moments later, she uttered his name so unnoticeably that she had not heard her own voice. Draco muttered her name over and over into her ear, the sound of him enough to keep her tangled emotions under control. She kept her fingers gripped to his back, his own hands lost admist her ocean of auburn hair.

"Stop," she managed to whisper.

It took all of Draco's power to cease his actions and pull out. Hermione's heart was beating fiercely—they had almost dropped off the ledge into an abyss of pleasure and he had stopped at her command. Him, of all people—listen to her. She felt no emotions, simply the growing of ones already there. Her expression remained calm, focused—as if she did not care about her sudden revelation. Draco lay above her, his body held several inches from hers. He breathed out in gasps, sweat slowly beading on his forehead. He stared at her. Hermione hoped that the feelings she saw scribbled across his features were worry and not despair.

"Are you all right?" he asked silently, an innocent hand brushing the strands of hair from her face.

"Don't stop," she said in reply. He blinked, but quickly cleared away the confusion and gently re-entered.

Conversation completely died as Hermione felt the passion stirring up once again. He held her as if she were about to break and she clutched onto him as if he were a boulder. As the heat mounted and sweat mingled with sweat, the only sound was the sound of their breathing each other's names. Finally, Hermione sensed an utterly new feeling that she could feel pouring through her veins. Her body involuntarily arched, Draco's hand quickly melting into the curve of her back. With a gasp and a proceeding moan, she dove into the waters of ecstasy. Seconds later, Draco dove in after her.

She woke to a foreign but very familiar touch. Her fingers slowly moved, rippling to make sure that they had not lost all feeling. Her back was pressed up against his broad chest, his heartbeat reassuring her that this, indeed, was reality. Her left leg was wound around his, which jerked in between both of hers. His arms wrapped around her upper torso, her arms held over hers. Blankets were pulled to her shoulders—signifying that he had been awake moments longer then she had. She tried to lift his hands from her chest, but woke him in the process.

"It's Saturday, stop moving," he muttered in complaint.

Hermione did as told, but remained awake. All the problems associated with their little fiasco had suddenly come flooding into her head. She automatically shivered in fear of all things that would come, regretting her decision.

"What in the—how are you still shivering?" Draco asked, pulling up the blankets and re-wrapping his arms around hers.

"We—we shouldn't have—it's all—what are we going to do?" she asked as her brow furrowed in worry.

Draco took in a deep breath, ignoring her questions. He nipped at the back of her neck, burrowing his nose into her waves of hair. Hermione nudged him roughly with her shoulders, then turned onto her other side to face him.

"What are we going to tell everybody?" she asked as she let her eyes slowly drift to the still locked door.

"We don't have to tell everybody," he mumbled as he played aimlessly with stray strands of her hair.

Hermione blinked and suddenly pulled out of his needy grasp. She clambered out of the bed, snatching one of the blankets to wrap herself in. While doing so, she tugged off the other sheets. She turned to face him, her body covered from head to toe in cloth. Draco slipped off the bed after her, completely fine with his nudity. Hermione suddenly felt dirty—the fact that Draco did not want to acknowledge her infuriated her.

"Calm down, you don't understand what I mean," he said, his brow furrowed to match hers.

"I think I do—"

"No—you don't—in the words of Hermione Granger," he hastily replied, grabbing onto her shoulders. "If we tell a soul—any living soul—we both risk losing everything. I know you've thought about it—there's no other way unless you plan on ruining both of our futures. We can still see each other in public if we keep up our prefect charade.."

Hermione angrily pushed his him back through the layers of blankets surrounding her. He took several steps backwards and held up his hands offensively.

"Unbelievable—Draco— we won't be able to pull this off—"

"You think I don't that, _Granger_? At least I'm trying to think up a way instead of trying to make the worst of the situation. This is going to kill me just as much as it will _you_," he snarled. Hermione hugged herself and shook her head, refusing to allow the realization to filter through. She already knew the truth, but having to deal with it now was enough to send her absolutely mad. What hurt most was his biting tone and the way he regressed from using her first name to her last whenever his moods changed. She wanted to scream at him and make him see through her eyes—but she could only guess what he had risked by following through with the ordeal.

"Why does it have to work this way?" she barely whispered.

Draco wanted to end it now before it got even more out of hand and slaughtered both of their reputations. However, her lost expression only helped in leading him to her. He kept his stance though, watching her with a weary glare. She tipped up her head, her face suddenly rejuvenated. Her expression was unreadable, a forced smile plastered onto her lips.

"You're right—I am making the worst of this situation," she said. Draco sighed a sigh of relief and took several steps towards her, hoping that another session of bed wrestling was in order. "So get out."

He stopped and Hermione pointed towards the window.

"I do not need to make this situation any more worse—so _get out._"

Draco grabbed his boxers and slipped into them rather hastily, even his movements produced during anger keeping Hermione's attention. With a brief smirk, he bent over her as he headed towards the window. His lips lingered on hers, but he quickly pulled away and snatched his broom's handle. He pushed open the window, but instead, turned towards her, sitting on the sill. He purposely splayed his legs apart. Hermione glared.

"I love you when you're feisty," he said rather calmly. Hermione rushed forwards and placed both palms on her hands. With a ferocious push, she knocked him from the ledge. He seemed to have expected it. While falling towards the ground, he managed to position his broom below him and flew off without a second look at Hermione.

Draco slipped back in through his window. As he set his broom down, an annoyingly high pitched voice broke the silence.

"Draco Malfoy—out flying on a _Saturday_ morning in nothing but boxers?" Pansy shrieked as she stepped out from behind his wardrobe.

"How the bloody hell did you get in here?" he nearly yelled. She smiled and walked towards him.

"That's for me to know, and you to find out," she answered. Without her make-up to hide the pug like appearance, she was definitely an eye-boggling sight. Draco wanted to look away and fly back to Gryffindor Tower—back to Hermione so he could explain exactly why he could not see her as a serious half of a relationship. If it weren't for his family name, his house's beliefs, the morals he was brought up to believe—he would be home free. Pansy giggled in what Draco imagined was a flirtatious manner. It came out as a mix between a snort and choking. She dragged her hand down his bare chest, batting her eyelashes all the while. Draco looked down with a raised brow and picked off her fingers, tossing her palm back at her. She giggled and tried again, except for more force. Draco brushed her off again and took several steps back.

"What ever the hell you're thinking of doing, Pansy—it will not happen," he said casually. Pansy gasped, her eyes widening. She placed both hands on her hips and shoved out her chest as if she had something to prove. Draco could not help the convulsion that spread through him.

"Well—it seems like our Draco Malfoy has gotten a taste of Gryffindor and now he's a muggle lover," she taunted. Draco sneered but ignored her tasteless comments. He quickly pulled on a shirt laying about on the floor, feeling completely vulnerable without one in the presence of Pansy.

"Pansy—get out and take your sexual frustration with you. Imagining things will not help you get into my pants," he retorted. She gasped again, her drama queen act cutting at Draco's patience.

"It's that Gryffindor tramp—isn't it? You—of all people! Wait until the rest of the Slytherin house hears about this," she shrieked.

"It's a pity that they already know," he said smugly as he raised his brow. Pansy growled with rage and turned on her heel, sweeping towards the door. She turned around before she left.

"Slytherin knows that you're just seeing that _mudblood _to get on Dumbledore's good side—but they don't know that you've actually fallen for the little git!" she hollered, slamming the door as she left.

Draco shrugged off the entire dilemma, knowing that the Slytherins would not believe Pansy's words over his. He smirked and looked forward to his next night encounter with Hermione.

Author's Note: I know, the chapter moved very quickly and made no sense—but I wanted to quickly upload this chapter and start moving on with the next one. The question on most of your minds is probably about the entire action scene between Hermione and Draco. Protection—I'm guessing that a Slytherin like Draco who detests all muggle inventions is yet to hear of the condom. Maybe there's some other magical way they keep themselves protected- I don't know. Another question- Draco and Hermione fighting—already? I know, it makes me frustrated too but I just wanted to get the first sex scene over with so that the plot can build up and I can include the tiny details later and what not. Question number three- Why is it so cliché? I'm working on it xx Give me some time and I'll have all the originality stuffed back into it.

Questions about the last chapter- I'm so sorry that it was confusing—after reading some reviews and having friends read it and telling me their opinions—the last chapter was not filled with as much "spunk" or what not as usual and it was also confusing. The part in which Hermione and Ron are fighting is Draco's dream sequence—at the end Ron was supposed to be hitting her hard enough to knock her out which was supposed to be enough to scare Draco into believing that he could have lost her. Come to think of it, that dream thing is a bit corny oo I might work on that later—anyways, it could work both ways and depending on which way you readers would prefer me to go—keep with the corny dream or be original again—I'll do just that.

Thank you all reviewers! (Sex & Diamonds, angeL, Amora-Ryuko, freaker, nicole, Crazy4Wood, Gilthoniel, Krystal, willow fairy, tainted black, one man fan club, fire goddess and martha) I'm thinking of making a mailing list to mail people whenever I update—if you would like to be on the mailing list, e-mail me your e-mail address, or put your address with your review. Thanks again for all the support!


	8. He Wasn't Awake Before

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

To Keep it Simple

**Previous Chapter **

_"Pansy—get out and take your sexual frustration with you. Imagining things will not help you get into my pants," he retorted. She gasped again, her drama queen act cutting at Draco's patience._

_ "It's that Gryffindor tramp—isn't it? You—of all people! Wait until the rest of the Slytherin house hears about this," she shrieked. _

_ "It's a pity that they already know," he said smugly as he raised his brow. Pansy growled with rage and turned on her heel, sweeping towards the door. She turned around before she left._

_ "Slytherin knows that you're just seeing that mudblood to get on Dumbledore's good side—but they don't know that you've actually fallen for the little git!" she hollered, slamming the door as she left._

_ Draco shrugged off the entire dilemma, knowing that the Slytherins would not believe Pansy's words over his. He smirked and looked forward to his next night encounter with Hermione._

**Chapter 7- He Wasn't Awake Before**

Hermione nervously rubbed the back of her head, the increasing pain searing through her body. Raw muscles screamed with tension and her eyes, though focused, had lost their glossy luster. She flipped through the aged and torn book before her, tapping her fingers angrily against the rough wood of the table. The door to the common room flung open and Hermione jumped in her seat. An excited Harry wearing Quidditch robes bounded over to the familiar face, broom in hand. Ron followed suit, his expression changing from joy to that of sudden worry.

"How was practice, Harry?" Hermione said weakly as her eyes slowly moved from the writing on the pages to her companion. Harry set his broom alongside him and kicked his feet onto the table, knocking over Hermione's bottle of ink. She barely noticed—even as she managed to drag a part of her robe's sleeve through the mess. Harry pursed his lips as he quizzically glanced at her, but continued with what he was about to say.

"You should've seen it! The Slytherins were practicing before us so we all thought we would have a good time and sit and watch them—Draco was like a dead weight. He did nothing—even when the snitch was right in front of him, he didn't see it. That just proves that he probably drinks something before matches to do _as_ well as he does."

Harry turned his head up toward Ron, looking for the reassurance that he needed to prove that Draco, had indeed, faltered during the practice. However, Ron was rubbing the back of his neck, eyes staring unwillingly out one of the many windows. Hermione felt a hazy memory of some sort of pain in connection to Ron, but she couldn't recall what it was. She passed it off as an emotional scarring related to when he'd accidentally boxed her, even though she knew that it wasn't.

"Oh, yeah, great—bloody brilliant," Ron mumbled as Harry cocked his brow. The Quidditch player shook his head in confusion and turned back towards Hermione, his expression immediately lighting up with humor.

"And apparently Pansy's going around calling you a wench for stealing her dear, dear _Draco._"

Hermione snorted in a mixture of disbelief and confusion, but let the moment pass by. She glanced at Ron and Harry, then placed her things into her bag, still choosing to not acknowledge the ink stain that was covering the book's pages in black fluid. She slammed the book shut and left it on the table. The duo watched her retreating back as she rushed towards the door.

She rubbed her temples as she tried to focus. The past few weeks had definitely flown by to leave her in complete disarray. Her frazzled nerves heightened as a familiar face walked into the library, obviously searching for her. He headed in her direction, a bouquet of roses tucked underneath his arm. Draco was certainly playing the part more then he needed to be.

"For the lady," he said with a raised brow and an all too knowing smirk. Hermione caught the huddled groups of students peering at the scene from behind bookshelves and graciously accepted the flowers. She forced a smile and set the roses down beside her, the petal colors fading from pink to red, and then to a flaming yellow. Hermione despised Draco now more than any other time. If he thought he could keep the charade going by simply buying her gifts that paid her off like he would pay off a prostitute, he had another thing coming. She continued scribbling as he pulled a chair from a deserted table. In a quick movement, he was sitting, staring at her, his arms folded across the back of the seat which was conveniently in front of him.

"I've been thinking about you, Granger," he whispered in a hushed tone after their audience had dispersed. Their daily intake of the main love affair at the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry had been fulfilled.

"And apparently, so has Pansy," she sneered in reply. The quill that she was writing with was no longer writing in her usual legible penmanship. Draco reached forwards and placed a hand over hers.

"Let's leave this dusty cave," he suggested, ignoring her icy remarks. "I can already see the cobwebs forming on your shoulders."

Hermione ducked her head and refused to make eye contact, putting up a good show of reading her text book. She copied ingredients and words onto her parchment, even though it wasn't an assignment. To be frank, she had completed her work hours ago after having tried to get her mind on other things. Now, her plan was threatening to shatter because of the presence of one annoyingly alluring Slytherin.

"Come on, Granger, playing hard-to-get only works with muggles. The sooner we talk, the sooner we'll have this all behind us and the sooner we won't have to worry about it, the sooner we can get back to our normal, average, un-touched prefect lives."

She nearly burned holes into the book's pages with her glare. So he _did_ want to forget about the entire ordeal and make it seem as it had never happened. If he wanted to pretend the moment in time they had shared had been wasted, then so would she. It wouldn't be that hard, since he was already adding wood to the fire by saying all the wrong things. She placed her things back into her bag for the second time that day and pushed back her chair as she moved to stand up. Draco raised a brow as he glanced to the roses still left on the table. Hermione copied his expression and moved her body so that her bag knocked the bouquet onto the floor. She stepped onto the flowers, crushing the petals beneath her shoe's high heel.

"How _clumsy_ of me," she innocently said with an index finger placed seductively at the corner of her lips. He sarcastically winced as she brought back memories of previous conversations, but was quick to shrug it off.

"_Mobilarbus_," he calmly said as he aimed the wand's tip at the destroyed flowers. The bouquet raised and then dropped in the nearest waste basket. Luckily, the students were still not observing. Hermione walked to the other side of the table and ignored Draco's outstretched hand. He took in a deep breath and followed her.

"Would you like to pay your _whore _any thing else, Draco? I'm sure that I could use it to buy tapes to help me improve my _skill_," Hermione hissed as they took cover behind one of the many large trees on the grounds. Less than 24 hours ago, they had been content, lying side by side, but now they faced each other, spitting rude insults and despising one another—or at least Hermione saw it as so. Draco raised both brows as he casually tucked his hands into his pockets.

"So it's _Draco_ now? Not _Malfoy_?" he replied, catching her off guard. Hermione let her bag slide off her shoulder, the extra weight having been an obnoxious threat. She placed her hands across her chest, her legs terse and placed like tense soldiers alongside one another.

"Stop trying to change the subject, you git," she said angrily. Draco sighed and turned to lean against the large trunk of the tree.

"The faster this is over with, the faster I can get back to working the street corners," she stated sarcastically.

"I'd like to see that—goody-little-two-shoes Hermione Granger, a prostitute. The day you do that will be the day that any of the Malfoys are put in a house other then Slytherin."

Hermione rubbed her temples as Draco watched. A feeling that he imagined was worry boiled inside of him, but it could also have been his sexual drive. Emotions were too far of a complicated thing to exist in a Malfoy.

"The fact of the matter is that—that—you are trying to pay me for—" she started.

"For what, Granger? Say it, but you know damn well that I'm not and if you try to manipulate the gifts that I give you into a form of payment, then you might as well be a _whore._ What I wanted to ask you was if you were doing all right with Weasel hovering over you like a mother hen," he snapped. Hermione wanted to slap him, but she held her chin up high and looked past his tasteless comments.

"I'm doing perfectly fine with _Ron_, thank you very much," she replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Are you sure? One hundred percent?" he said with a raised brow. Hermione nodded slowly, then reached down to grab her bag. When she stood back up, Draco was standing behind her. She froze as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

"Positive?" he growled into her ear. Annoyed, Hermione shoved both elbows into his sides, knocking him several steps back.

"Yes!" she barked back. "

Draco smirked as he quickly recovered, reaching forward to brush away a strand of her hair. She turned her face to the side to avoid his touch and then quickly pivoted, intent on heading back to the castle.

"Watch your back, Granger," he called after her, an expression of mixed emotions splayed on his features. Half of his face was lit up in delight due to the pleasure he still felt when his taunts and insults worked, but the other was still questioning his loyalty and where it lay. Hermione tossed a glance over her shoulder at the loitering Slytherin.

"_You're_ doing enough watching for _everybody_," she sneered. Draco cocked a brow and walked away in another direction.

The evening rituals of having Slytherins greet Gryffindors was progressing as planned. The sessions were soon to end, though it seemed highly doubtful that they would—perhaps in another month's worth of meetings. The conversation quickly drew to a close and the first years rushed to return to their own matters. Draco stood up casually as the Slytherin first years rushed to escape the Gryffindor confines—the red and gold curtains had been blinding them for quite a while. Hermione followed Draco but managed to feint all of his flirtatious motions or intentions. She brushed off his movements as if they were nothing and it seemed that way because Draco moved so slyly.

"Go ahead to the Slytherin common room," Draco ordered, motioning with a wave of his hand. The first years hushed and quickly ran down the hall back to their quarters, believing that Hermione and Draco needed some rather romantic time alone. However, that was quite the opposite of what Hermione had in mind.

"What do you want?" she bit out, glancing nervously from side to side. When ever they did not act like a couple, she always felt that some student was bound to turn the corner and see their little broken charade.

"Ron is going to do something," he whispered calmly, "I just don't know what."

"That's wonderful, Draco, really, it is," she said sarcastically, averting her eyes from his face. He sighed and took a step closer. Hermione took one back. He took another step and she in return, copied his action like a dance and moved another step back. Draco finally grabbed a gentle hold on her shoulders and held in her place. She instinctively struggled to get out of his grasp.

"Just listen to me and stop dancing around like a deranged animal," he hissed between clenched teeth. Hermione balled her hands into fists and managed to lower her blood pressure minutely.

"I've been having dreams about you—" he began, but before he could finish, Hermione's eyes had already widened and she was reading his words completely wrong. She wriggled her shoulder out of his grasp and swung her hand back, unleashing her palm against his cheek. His face immediately began to redden, a contrast against his somewhat light skin. She pointed a finger accusingly at him as she took several steps backward.

"Oh—don't you even start with me, Draco—I know this little bit—but it's not going to work because I already know all those aces you have up your sleeve. Let me tell you—you are not getting anywhere _near _my room tonight so don't even try to sweet talk me into believing that it's all just a little mistake and—"

"Bloody hell, Hermione—I don't "sweet talk" or have any "aces up my sleeve"—your muggle sayings are by far the most obnoxiously uninterpretive words I have ever heard—I was trying to tell you that I've been having dreams about you and Ron—about your safety level dropping when around him," he spat out. His cheek was still a dark red and seemed to glow even more with each passing second. Hermione was more worried about his safety than hers. She sighed and shook her head.

"I don't know if this is some trick you're pulling or if it's just some awkward Malfoy trait that skips generations or something—"

"Granger," he said roughly, grabbing her shoulders again. However, he released her just as quickly when he focused on the look she was directing towards him. "You just have to trust me on this one—I don't know how and I don't know when but he will try to do something and you have to be prepared—"

"For goodness sakes, stop sounding like such a boy scout," she said furiously, refusing to acknowledge the look of puzzlement that she received from Draco to her reference about boy scouts—no doubt in the wizarding world they had wizard scouts. "I'm perfectly fine being around Ron and I have been for the past 6 years of my life. There's nothing that makes this year different from the rest."

"Do you always have to be so stubborn—" he began, but quickly stopped because of the voices they heard coming down the corridor. The two froze and as the voices neared, Hermione turned towards Draco. What if the students walking down the hall were first years? They could pass off the arguing as a lover's quarrel, but Draco's flaming cheek and her rumpled clothing from her moving around so much would not exactly support their theory. She furrowed her brow and without warning, leaned forward and caught Draco's cheeks in her hand. She tried to cover his wounded cheek with one hand while pulling down on his face with the other. Their lips made contact just as whoever was walking down the corridor turned the corner.

Hermione did not want to admit it—ever—but the simple physical chemistry between them charged her veins with an energy she had never felt before. It was an interesting and relieving experience—knowing that Draco would somehow be there to hold her up when her knees turned to jelly was always a satisfying feeling. Draco, like the snake he was, eagerly moved to wrap his arms around Hermione's waist, pulling her in for even closer contact. Hermione swore that Draco's own snake was aching for some attention—but the feeling wasn't uncomfortable. She was about to deepen the kiss when she heard staggered footsteps and another set of running ones coming down the hall. Afraid that it wasn't first years at all coming to get a closer look, she pushed Draco away.

"Holy 'ell!" they heard a rather uncontrolled voice say. "Wha' in the bloody world is you two be doin'?"

Hermione's nostrils flared as she saw the image of an intoxicated Ron Weasley before her. Harry and Sean rushed around the corner, hurrying to catch up their escapee.

"We tried to stop him but he doesn't know his own strength when he's had a little too many drinks," Harry said with an innocent shrug. Hermione sidestepped as did Draco when the raging redhead, unable to be held back by companions, rushed at Draco. The Slytherin protectively held Hermione around the waist and to the side, which caused even more tension. Ron hollered out some sort of drunk stupor war call and rushed towards the blonde haired boy again.

"You slimy snick, take your hands offa' 'erme-oh-nee," Ron said as he ran, with flailing arms, towards the blonde haired intruder. Hermione followed Draco's movements as they moved to the side again and allowed Ron free space to travel into a suit of armor. A large crash was heard as the entire suit collapsed atop a very unsuspecting drunk. Harry and Sean rushed to pull Ron out of the mess before the suit rebuilt itself—with Ron inside.

Draco turned to look at Hermione with all too knowing stare. She shook her head and furrowed her brow.

"He's just had a little too much to drunk and you being here is provoking him," she said angrily. Draco raised his hands offensively and shook his head.

"Are you sure that's it, Granger?" he asked, intent on making her rethink where her friendships truly lay. His manipulative manner was not going to trick her again, though.

"Yes, I'm sure, now get out of here before you cause even more trouble," she said while ushering him towards the end of the corridor. He smirked and without so much as a little bit of effort, stood still, causing Hermione's brutal realization of how her strength measured up to his. She stopped trying to move him and turned to look up at his suddenly serious expression.

"Just be careful," he said roughly as his eyes turned to look towards Harry and Sean try to shove Ron into the common room.

"Sweet dreams," she said with a hint of malice in her voice. He winced, much to her dismay, but suddenly pulled off a rather unexpected smirk.

"After that kiss, I will," Draco quickly replied with a wink. Hermione's jaw dropped, but before she could come up with any witty retorts, Draco had already shuffled down the hall's corner. She turned on her heel and rushed back to the common room.

"What was that?" she nearly shrieked as she burst in, watching Ron struggling to stand up correctly. He turned towards her and raised his hands in success.

"You're alive!" he said rather animatedly.

"Of course I am," she slowly replied. Harry shrugged as he always did when he was clueless as to what his friends were saying and turned back to his game of wizard's chess with Sean.

"Draco was about to eat you—y'see, thas' why I had to save you," he said with a cheesy grin. Hermione furrowed her brow and headed to her room to sleep due to the immense confusion Ron was piling atop her. She would ask him about his raging drunk stupor when he was sober and not liable to hurt himself by running into inanimate objects.

Hermione had taken Draco's advice, much to her dismay, and had locked her door. She had nearly dozed off into a deep slumber when she was awoken by a scratching from somewhere in her room. Her heart began to beat non-stop, wondering if Draco had been right and Ron really was going to hurt her. Fear bubbled up inside but when she finally peaked out above her covers, she caught the sight of Draco's silhouette against the window. She quickly clambered from her bed and rushed to the window, pulling it open. Draco immediately rushed in, but instead of grabbing Hermione to hug and kiss and caress, he dropped his broom and pointed his wand towards the corner of her room by the door.

"Petrificus Totalus," he hissed in a tone above a whisper. A very stunned Gryffindor tumbled from the shadows, limbs held together by an imaginary glue. The very angry Harry Potter glared up at Malfoy from his awkward position, a knife in his hand.


	9. A Realistic Fantasy

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

To Keep it Simple

**Previous Chapter **

_Hermione had taken Draco's advice, much to her dismay, and had locked her door. She had nearly dozed off into a deep slumber when she was awoken by a scratching from somewhere in her room. Her heart began to beat non-stop, wondering if Draco had been right and Ron really was going to hurt her. Fear bubbled up inside but when she finally peaked out above her covers, she caught the sight of Draco's silhouette against the window. She quickly clambered from her bed and rushed to the window, pulling it open. Draco immediately rushed in, but instead of grabbing Hermione to hug and kiss and caress, he dropped his broom and pointed his wand towards the corner of her room by the door._

_"Petrificus Totalus," he hissed in a tone above a whisper. A very stunned Gryffindor tumbled from the shadows, limbs held together by an imaginary glue. The very angry Harry Potter glared up at Malfoy from his awkward position, a knife in his hand._

**Chapter 8- A Realistic Fantasy**

Harry managed to roll himself to the side, shimmying up the side of Hermione's drawers into a standing position. Draco marched forward, stabbing his wand into the shadows of the corner.

"Where is he, Potter!" he yelled, pivoting on his heel to face a former nemesis.

"I should be asking you, ya' dirty ferret!" Harry sneered in reply. Hermione recited the counter spell, the imaginary binds around Harry's legs and arms disappearing as quickly as they had first arrived. He shook out his hands and looked towards the ground, the moon casting his shadow along the floor. Draco stalked closer to Harry and restated his question.

"Where is Ron—"

Before he could finish, Harry's fist made contact with Draco's jaw, sending the off guard opponent backwards several steps. The slytherin glared as his hand quickly sought any wounds. Right as the blonde haired boy sprung towards Harry, Hermione intervened, sliding herself in between the two. Draco stumbled to the side as he forced his legs to stop their movement. He slammed into the wall, leaning against it angrily for support.

"What in blue blazes do you two _children _think you're doing? If you utter one more word—exchange one more punch—I will jump out that very window and the both of your efforts to save me from whatever danger I'm in will be _wasted._ Now one of you explain to me what you two think you're accomplishing by barging into my room like a pair of banshees and wrecking havoc all over the room," Hermione said, collectively stating her thoughts.

"First off- thank your stars that I'm not as much of a slow dolt as Ron or else you would be preaching to Madame Pomfrey instead of me and Potter. Secondly—I am saving your derriere from a dire assault—"

"He was not, Hermione—he's just trying to make me and Ron look bad—he's trying to get on your good side—"

"How did you get into my room, Harry?" Hermione said, shattering the foundation that was building up to an interesting, if not, abusive battle.

"_Alohomora_," Harry responded, the door unlocking while he spoke.

Hermione's attention immediately shot towards the entrance. Her brow furrowed as she realized that her room was no long a sanctuary for her privacy. It was a hard blow to her gut but she ignored it and focused on the rather confusing dilemma before her.

"Oh—just forget it. What's all this about Ron?"

"He's trying to kill you—obviously," Draco said, his old ways working into his system. Hermione narrowed her eyes and fell onto her bed, bouncing several times before landing comfortably with her hands crossed across her chest.

"I wonder why I didn't notice his intentions before," Hermione said sarcastically, a blank expression surfacing over her face. "Maybe it was because there's _no reason for him to kill me_?"

Her voice raised at the end of her comment causing Harry to lunge forward and cover her mouth. Draco quickly rushed forward and pushed aside the rival, nearly knocking him to the ground. The two exchanged looks of pure hatred while Hermione pulled Draco's hand from her mouth and rushed towards the window. She sat on the cushioned ledge and leaned against the panes, her arms moving back to cover her chest.

"Don't think I won't do it!" she threatened as one hand slowly moved towards the window. Draco raised his hands offensively and moved forward several steps. Hermione leaned backwards, her hair rippling in the cool breeze. All three froze.

"Explain yourself, Harry—I have a good idea of what Draco's doing here—but you? Why did you invade my privacy like that? Have you no dignity? I could have been changing when you sneaked in—and what exactly were you planning to do with that knife!"

Harry had set the blade atop Hermione's desk upon being released. The steel caught the glint of the moon, making it the most noticeable object in the room. His attention slowly shifted towards the knife, and then back to Hermione.

"I was worried that that _rat_ would try and seduce you," he said with a sneer.

"So you brought along a knife instead of your wand?" she replied angrily.

"It's just a spell, Hermione," Harry responded, then slowly walked towards the knife, making sure that his movements weren't enough to make his female companion toss her body from the window.

"_Mutatio_," he whispered. The blade elongated and the sharp edge become dull, the knife transforming into the familiar holly wand holding the feather of a phoenix. "It was just for appearance.."

"What were you doing—hiding in the corner of my room? Were you planning to scare him away by waving your knife around? Of all people, Harry, you— what danger would I be in if he tried to _seduce_ me?" Hermione angrily said.

"I thought that if I could just scare him away—he'd stop trying to snog you and get away with.. well, you know.. a Gryffindor—a prefect for that matter. Plus—he's put all these thoughts into your head. You might trust him—but me and Ron don't and you don't even care about that anymore. I was just worried that you'd forget where your roots lie."

Hermione nearly snorted at the irony. She knew why Draco wasn't going around, showing off. If he did, his parents would come up with a punishment so severe that he would no longer be able to hold his nose up as he did. Dumbledore had already had to reassure the Malfoys that their son was in no way actually getting involved with a mudblood. To find out that he slept with one would positively send the two parents on a rampage. Harry had unknowingly reminded her of why she was dodging so many of Draco's hints.

"That is—absolutely insane!" she said in an ecstatic whisper.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he solemnly answered.

"I still cannot believe you, Harry," she muttered, sliding off the window's ledge and onto the soft carpeting of her room. "All right, out, Draco has no chance of seducing me and you can _eavesdrop _outside if you still have a need to be nosy."

"But Hermi—"

"Out."

Draco watched as a somewhat solemn Harry headed out the door, closing it quietly behind him. Both occupants still in the room listened as the stairs creaked, signaling his departure back to his own dormitory. A smirk wove its way across Draco's expressions as he turned towards Hermione.

"Hey there, beautiful," he said huskily, a hint of sarcasm entangled with his words. He moved towards her like a wolf but she feinted his useless attacks and walked towards her bed.

"Mm—I like your thinking, Granger—cut the foreplay and go straight to the _action_."

Draco rushed across the room and threw himself onto her bed. As he sunk into the mattress, he quickly lay down on his side with his arms stretched out and awaiting her greeting. Hermione quirked a brow and turned so that her back leaned against one of the strong posts holding up the canopy to her bed. After seeing his actions rejected, Draco pulled back his arms and sat up.

"Even Harry knows that this is all wrong—and he hasn't the slightest clue about what we've actually done," she mumbled to herself, but loud enough for Draco to hear. He raised his brow and sighed, shoulders raising and then lowering. For the past few days, he had forced himself to be more considerate when it came to understanding where Hermione stood in all of this. He even held back all his natural Malfoy and Slytherin instincts to be with her—protect her even. If anything, it should have been her begging for more and not him. His ego managed to peek through his fake appearance.

"That's a pity, Granger—do you think I honestly give a damn about what Potter thinks?" he said with a sneer. Hermione scoffed and turned her head to face him.

"What was all this about Ron?" she asked.

"He tried to kill you—what part of _kill you _is so hard to understand?" he climbed off the bed and fell into her armchair, his legs spreading apart as he did so. Hermione bit her tongue and continued with her interrogation.

"I _understand _that part—but wouldn't you _think _that if some stranger told you that one of your closest friends was trying to _kill you_ that you'd be just the _tiniest_ bit curious? Or am I asking the wrong person? Perhaps I should direct my question towards someone _with _friends," she said, unaware of the harsh comments slipping from her lips. She imagined that a Slytherin such as Draco could handle the bitter truth.

"Clever, Granger—I've really got to credit you for that one. Being a gigantic git and bitch at the same time is quiet an unimaginable feat—maybe we should get Potter back in here, I'm sure he'd like to see the Hermione that he's trying to _protect_."

She felt anger seer through her veins, but it wasn't at the point of boiling yet. Didn't Draco understand? If she let herself believe his charade, he would just revert back to his Slytherin ways and treat her as he had months ago. She was yet to admit her feelings as openly as Draco did—she imagined that men like him would say anything to bed a woman.

"Let's just focus on Ron," she said as she furrowed her brow, watching Draco's comments go to waste. "Did you have another of your _dreams_?"

"Not that it matters now—I believe that I've been mistaken these past few days about where my loyalty lies."

"What are you talking about? Just tell me what you dreamt about!" she said, frustrated.

"Do your own damn research, Granger—let's just leave it at this," he started, climbing out of the chair. He grabbed his broom and stood on the window's sill, mounting the traveling device. "There's only one reason why I'd try and prevent all of this."

With that said, Draco stepped from the sill and into the cold, empty air. Hermione rushed to the window to only see him gliding away towards the Slytherin house—where ever that was. She sighed and pulled the window closed, locking it, though it seemed a useless action now. Her eyes meandered towards her muggle clock. It was three in the morning and the stars still dotted the dark sky. She slipped beneath her covers, hoping that when she reopened her eyes, she would no longer have any worries.

Hermione had left dinner early, ignoring the stare that Draco directed at her back. She hurried down the corridor and slid into the library, not sure exactly what she was looking for. Something to do with dreams, probably..

By the end of the hour, she had concentrated on looking through three books. _Hogwarts: A History, Powers You Never Knew You_ _Had_ _and What to Do With Them Now Youve Wised Up, _and _Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions_. She flipped through the second book, skimming the index for anything about dreams and their predictions. Nothing about what Draco talked about—nor did the third book hold any answers. She finally gave in to searching the trusty _Hogwarts: A History. _

As her eyes ran over the small portion that Draco had read days before, she failed to understand what he'd meant. There was only one reason why he would try to prevent it.. she tapped her chin thoughtfully as she reread the words. _Officials could only conclude that when loved ones are depicted in the dreams of those with this special talent, they are actual predictions of the future or what was happening during that exact moment.._

Hermione flinched in her seat as she read the small excerpt. Draco said he'd been mistaken about where his loyalties had lain. She blinked and placed the pieces together. He'd meant that he'd been wrong about loving her. He _had _loved her, but now she wasn't so sure. Her feelings began to mix in the churning tangles of her head. Love was such a strong word—was she ready to use it? She stared down at the paper, letting the words filter in again. She loved him—but was she _in _love with him? As she glanced at the flowers that were still in the trash can, left from days ago, she sighed. _Yes.. _she thought to herself.

Draco prodded the fire as first years sat around him. Obviously, they had grown weary of the routine—sitting around and talking about how they'd all individually improved. Hermione promised that she would talk to Professor McGonagall about their situation and see if the sessions were at an end anytime soon. Draco still felt himself thinking of her. He'd told himself that she was no longer a portion of his life—she was too much of a risk. Maybe, just maybe—they could pull it off, somehow. She sat quietly, her eyes miles away from his. If only he could see a sign, anything. He wanted her to respond—just once. He had been shot down so many times by her, but it had never occurred to him that it was _supposed _to hurt. Draco was still unwilling to face the new emotions she had stirred in him. He was gradually accepting them—but he felt so vulnerable whenever he felt them. It was something he was willing to feel in exchange for being with her—being around her for that matter. Why couldn't she just say those three words? _I love you, _was it so hard? He'd said it as easily as he'd said anything else—which had led him to believe that he hadn't really meant it. However, he'd never know because he had no previous experiences to compare it with. The two hadn't talked for several days, a suspicion gathering among the first years. It didn't help that Hermione sat at the far corner of the couch while Draco sat on a footrest in front of the flames in the fireplace. A daring Gryffindor raised his hand.

"Why don't you two hug and kiss like you usually do?" he asked rather loudly. Harry and Ron, who were sitting at a table in the far corner playing Wizard's Chess immediately turned to see Hermione and Draco's reaction.

"Well—" Hermione started, not sure what to say. She wrung the corner of her robe in her hands and glanced towards Draco, who remained motionless—except for the occasional poking at the burning logs. She knew that he was waiting for her response- everybody was. "We didn't think it was quite.. such a clever idea to—to.. encourage public shows of affection because—because the professors were getting frustrated with—our.. lack of focus on school work."

She nearly slapped herself for telling such a large lie. She also knew that she was contradicting everything they had worked for. Their goal had been to show that Slytherins and Gryffindors could work together—but not too close together. Draco turned to look at Hermione with a raised brow while the first years talked to each other in hushed whispers. The voices grew louder as they realized what the Gryffindor prefect had realized after speaking.

"Keep it down," Draco began, leaning forward to stare at each individual face. He slung his hands loosely over his splayed legs, elbows pointed outwards. "What Hermione means to say is that the professors felt that if we snogged too much, you all would be spending more time together in your dormitories then in class. Understood?"

First years oohed and ahhed with understanding, then nodded in response. Hermione stole a glance at Harry and Ron, who seemed just as surprised as she was. Draco glanced up at the grandfather clock and then back towards his audience.

"Now that that's all over with—Slytherin first years—get back to our house."

The Gryffindor first years gratefully thanked Draco with their stares and ran off to their dormitories—the session having bored them more and more by the minute. The Slytherin first years took one glance at Draco and obediently rushed out of the common room, heading back towards their room without their prefect in tow. Draco stood up and placed one hand atop the mantle, leaning sluggishly against the fireplace. He continued to prod the dimming embers with the poker, but then dropped it onto the floor with a clatter. His dreams had gotten worse each passing night and he knew that Hermione was going to be in some sort of danger soon. The only way he managed to keep himself in his bed each night was to think that she was safe and even if he didn't want to believe it—Harry was probably protecting her anyway. Ron still rose suspicions, though. Draco glanced over at the red-haired boy. He needed answers—he felt alone and lost without them. If only she could give him one—the one he was looking for.

"Hermione," he called after her. She had already reached the stairs and as she turned around to face him, Ron and Harry stood up from their game. Draco walked towards her but could not get close enough to touch her. Her faithful Gryffindor companions stood in his way.

"We believe we have a right to know what you plan on doing to Hermione," Harry said angrily as Ron began to turn a red color.

"I was planning to make wild love to her on the floor," Draco said sarcastically. Ron was bouncing slightly from the bubbling anger that was beginning to spread through his veins like wildfire. Hermione had almost yelled at him to stop talking—afraid that he was about to reveal something that wasn't supposed to be revealed. She stared at him while he stared back, his gray eyes telling her nothing while hers told him everything.

"Calm down, you drunk git," Draco said angrily as he pushed the Weasley aside, knocking the two friends into one another. Ron immediately threw himself towards Draco, as expected. The Slytherin pushed off Ron, the red haired sixth year colliding with Harry. The two took several steps backwards, but before both of them could charge, Hermione spoke.

"Who opened the window?" she asked curiously. Ron ignored her and proceeded to run towards Draco like an enraged bull. As Draco turned towards the window, Ron pushed the both of them to the floor. Hermione stepped around the mess and headed towards the large common room window, which was wide open. She pulled it closed, snapping the clasp down, shivers running wild down her back. The moon was full again and the light streamed through the window like water. Her mouth opened to call a stop to the battle, but something covered her mouth. Harry yelled out her name and immediately, Draco was shoving off Ron like a wet cloth. He launched towards the figure dragging her into the shadows as did Harry, Ron following suit. All three managed to grab hold onto Hermione, a tug of war between the two forces rolling into action. Harry let go of his friend and pulled the figure out of the depths of the shadows.

A very surprised Ron Weasley stared as his exact copy fell from the shadows. Coincidentally, the two fell to the floor together. Harry and Draco helped Hermione to her feet, then turned to stare at the intruder.

"What in the name of—When did you clone yourself, Ron?" Harry asked, surprise mixing with some sort of fear. The two Rons turned to stare at each other as they stood up, dusting themselves off.

"I'm the real Ron," they both said at once. Hermione searched her robe for her wand but could not find it—she cursed silently to herself. Whoever had her wand was the fake.

"Pull out your wands," she demanded. Both reached for their robe pockets while Harry pulled out his wand, holding it rather unsteadily.

"Wait a minute! This one isn't mine! That impostor switched them!" one said.

"He's the impostor—how could I have switched the wands so quickly? Quickly, Harry, stupefy him!" the other said.

"Drop your wands," Draco commanded. The two threw their wands to Harry, who picked them up and handed them to Hermione. She took back her wand and wondered how they would handle the situation. Something was definitely wrong—and for once in her life, she had no answers.

One of the Rons stepped forwards with his hands raised above his head. "I'm the real Ron—come on Harry, you know it's me."

The other ran to catch up with the copy. "No! Don't believe him Harry, he's lying!" Both of their faces began to grow red with anger. Draco stared at the ground to clear his thoughts while Harry moved his arm back and forth, wand in hand, trying to determine the true Ron from the fake Ron. When Draco lifted his head back up, his eyes were full of both confusion and revelation.

"_Crucio_!" he yelled, a burst of light erupting from his wand. It hit the Ron to the left, the Ron who had tried to first persuade Harry that he had been the true Ron. The impostor fell to the ground, twitching uncontrollably. His chest heaved as his energy tried to rejuvenate. .Hermione turned with wide eyes towards Draco while Ron stared at his twin.

"Why did you do that?" she angrily said, unsure if Draco had attacked the right Weasley.

Draco stepped towards the fake, Harry and Hermione gathering beside him. He nudged over the body with the toe of his shoe, the moon sliding directly over the body and covering _all._

"He has no shadow," Hermione whispered.


	10. Letting Go

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

To Keep it Simple

**Previous Chapter **

_"Not that it matters now—I believe that I've been mistaken these past few days about where my loyalty lies."_

_ "What are you talking about? Just tell me what you dreamt about!" she said, frustrated._

_ "Do your own damn research, Granger—let's just leave it at this," he started, climbing out of the chair. He grabbed his broom and stood on the window's sill, mounting the traveling device. "There's only one reason why I'd try and prevent all of this."_

_She loved him—but was she in love with him? As she glanced at the flowers that were still in the trash can, left from days ago, she sighed. Yes.. she thought to herself. _

_One of the Rons stepped forwards with his hands raised above his head. "I'm the real Ron—come on Harry, you know it's me."_

_ The other ran to catch up with the copy. "No! Don't believe him Harry, he's lying!" Both of their faces began to grow red with anger. _

_ "Crucio!" he yelled._

_ "Why did you do that?" she angrily said, unsure if Draco had attacked the right Weasley._

_ Draco stepped towards the fake, Harry and Hermione gathering beside him. He nudged over the body with the toe of his shoe, the moon sliding directly over the body and covering all._

_ "He has no shadow," Hermione whispered. _

**Chapter 9- Letting Go**

Draco knelt down with the easy languidness of a Malfoy, his roughly sculpted hand reaching out to touch the body that could not possibly be in existence. His skin ran with shivers as soon as his skin made contact with the opponent's robes. If he had been brought up differently, perhaps under the circumstances goose bumps would be rising along the length of his body. However, his keen sense of ignorance was skin deep and refused to allow such preposterous weaknesses to invade his supposedly malicious state of mind. Hermione's shadow slid across the body on the floor, causing Draco's attention to change directions rather abruptly.

"Could it be you-know—" Hermione managed to blurt out before three pairs of glares hit her squarely in the face.

"That battle was over a year ago," Ron said as he turned to look at Harry with an air of uncertainty. After all, their local hero had been the boy on the receiving end of the wand that had backfired once again. It was a topic that they barely touched upon, since it had been a hard and traumatizing time for them all.

"Well, I'm sure people said that years and years ago but look at what happened," Hermione continued. Draco stood up and dusted off his knees, promptly turning to shoot a glare of pure hidden emotions towards her. She sighed and stepped away from the corpse, her shadow following her in an unnoticeable defeat.

Harry pulled back a red velvet chair, sliding onto the plush cushioning uneasily. Draco stood up from his uncomfortable roost on the floor and took several steps away from the body. He glided towards the table and snatched a chair back, pivoting it on one of it's legs until it's back faced the table. He dropped into the seat, legs straddling the chair and arms folded over the seat's back. Hermione and Ron took the two chairs left.

"We should first alert Dumbledore or at least Professor McGonagal," Hermione said, automatically taking the position as the clear-headed do-gooder. Ron sighed and shook his head.

"We'd be risking the safety of Harry if we told them— as soon as word got out that there could be a new uprising of death eaters.. who knows what would happen to Harry? And Hogwarts?"

Hermione blinked. She's already thought of that possibility but it did not the seem the least bit a threat. They could all be placed under supervision and their safeties would be ensured while the Ministry did their business about the castle. Then again, plenty of rumors would rise and Hogwarts would once again be the origin for another media field day. The Daily Prophet would run the story for weeks, causing even more problems… then again—not telling Dumbledore was simply too stupid of an idea.

"We have to tell an official, Ron! It's not exactly as simple as hiding the body and keeping this a secret. Obviously—something's bound to happen and somebody is going to be hurt and we'll have that on our consciences. What were you even thinking suggesting that—"

"You're an official, Hermione! A prefect! So is Draco. You two are officials and you two know and we're old enough to handle this ourselves. We'd be helping Harry by doing this—"

"Don't even try to use our friendship as a stepping stool for your little idea! I will absolutely not allow this atrocity to go unnoticed—"

"Oh stop being so goody goody, Hermione. After a while, it gets very tiring and repetitive—"

"Why I ought to—"

Hermione stopped herself before Ron could, a sudden jolt of shivers running down her spine. She trusted her intuition and snapped her head to the side, just in time to watch as the once unconscious body stood and unclasped the window. It was a frighteningly paling sight—a battered and bruised Ron lookalike moving to stand on the sill. Draco immediately stood up, his chair shaking with the sudden movement. He rushed towards the window to grab the body but was too slow. It toppled backwards off the edge, it's arms spread in an eagle like posture, the once flaming red hair now a darkening black color. Hermione and the others rushed to the window in time to see the body drift towards the grounds below. It twisted it's limbs and torso, managing to land on two nimble feet upright several hundred feet below. The four of them could no longer make out any details for the body of their current target had completely lost all its' features and had turned a sickly gray color. Draco stared grimly as it staggered in the direction of the woods. There was a good distance between the body and the forestry, giving the four enough time to catch it—if they moved fast enough.

"We've got to go after it!" Ron whispered hoarsely. Draco had already grabbed Harry's broom, which rested against the wall of the far corner of the common room, and was heading back towards the window.

"Stating the obvious doesn't help, Weasley," he said with a sneer as he leapt onto the sill with one lithe jump. He mounted the broom and turned towards the window. Before he could make his all too familiar jump into darkness, Hermione grabbed his robe and pulled herself upwards.

"I'll keep an eye on Draco," Hermione said as she quickly slipped onto the broom behind Draco. He turned his head to the side, glancing at her from the corner of his eye, then once again prepared to jump.

"Wait! I'll go instead—I don't trust you with him, Hermione," Harry said. "And plus, it is my broom."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled her wand from her pocket, allowing her two closest companions to observe the existence of her form of protection.

"I know more protections spells then the two of you combined, and then some. If I need help, I'll shoot up a flare and as soon as you see them, alert Dumbledore or Professor McGonagal. You can keep an eye on us from here or find your own way down—we're wasting time. Just go, Draco," she said. Draco dropped from the edge into the unending abyss below.

Harry and Ron both swore at once as they saw Hermione slip off into the unknown with a former enemy. Following her directions, they watched the two swiftly glide to the ground, keeping a constant eye on the blonde haired Slytherin.

"There it is," Hermione hissed, gracefully slipping off the broom. She thanked the moon for being so full and big that particular evening, it's pale light guiding her along the ground. Her legs carried her like an arrow through the slight wind, the robes weighing her down. Draco caught up with her several seconds later, the broom hoisted over his shoulder. He stopped in his tracks, as did Hermione, when they realized that their target had disappeared. It had run into the woods where only shadows existed and light pierced through with the aid of a wand. Hermione cursed in disapproval, catching her breath at the same time.

"I can't believe this," she muttered as she turned abruptly on her heel, heading back towards the castle with her head hung low. She placed her hands on her waist and quickly shot a look up to Gryffindor tower. Harry and Ron watched with what looked like disappointment.

"We could have possibly had a minion of some uprising organization and now it's gone, slipped through our fingers. This wouldn't have happened if we'd just told Dumbledore instead of arguing," Hermione scolded no one in particular. Draco watched with a raised brow, Harry's broom tilted at an awkward angle over his shoulder.

"You're never the one to blame," Draco said with a slight scoff, stopping in his steps. He placed the broom in front of him, resting one hand casually over it's top. Hermione turned, her robes twisting around her calves. She folded her arms across her chest as she kept one eye on the clouds covering the moon.

"And what exactly does that mean?" she asked rather angrily.

"What do you think it means, Granger?" he growled, his brow furrowing in response to past memories.

"Does this have anything to do with what went on between us the other evening?" Hermione quickly bit back. She laughed and then shook her head as she turned back around on the heel of her shoe. "This is pointless, Draco."

"Go ahead and walk away. You seem to do that best—run away from your problems," he countered, staying put. Hermione disregarded his comment and continued walking towards the castle, just realizing that she had no way of returning back up to Gryffindor tower unless Ron sent his broom down to retrieve her—which she highly doubted would and could happen. She stopped walking at the foot of the tower, looking up to see a red-faced Ron and somewhat angry Harry who had their glares directed at Draco. As the clouds completely covered the moon, the two up in the tower lost sight of what was going on below. They could only sit and wait for Hermione scream or set something afire.

"There's no where left to go, Granger—other then up," Draco said as he neared her. She turned again, surprised that she hadn't gotten herself sick yet from all her spinning. Her eyes were burning with a mixture of frustration and anger.

"Let's just get back up there before someone catches us," she said, her comment accompanied by a glare. Draco laughed, a laugh that was full of spite and control—not the one that Hermione had once heard.

"If anything—I'll be the only one going back up there," he said as he quickly silenced, his eyes penetrating her thick shield of ignorance.

"Harry and Ron will _slaughter_ you if you leave me down here," she replied.

"Who's to say that I'll be heading back to Gryffindor Tower?"

Hermione sighed and controlled the water works that were usually associated with the bouts of frustration such as the one she was having at that moment that rarely swept through her.

"All right, Draco—what do you want from me?" she said, placing a hand on her forehead. The wild look that suddenly darted across his features was all she needed to see—but the expression quickly disappeared as he pulled it under control. He glanced up towards the tower, noting the lack of supervision due to the ample sanctuary provided by the flight of the clouds overhead. With a blank expression and unreadable eyes, he turned towards Hermione.

"Trust me," he asked. Trust was the most that he could ever ask from her. Hermione parted her lips to reject his suggestion, but instead kept the words lodged inside her throat to hear the rest of his explanation.

"If you don't trust me, I can't help you. I am _not _after Harry and I'm _not _after you. My parents have _nothing_ to do with this and you damn well know it. I have a grudge against Harry—but not enough to kidnap or murder.."

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Who's to say I even suspected you or your parents of being behind this?"

"_You_ told me," he said, glaring at her.

Hermione remembered the look of disgust that she'd given him and then remembered that she'd been standing directly in front of the window—which probably acted as a mirror. She sighed and turned towards the ground, shaking her head. She never would have imagined that Draco would be able to read her expressions so easily.

"I can't help what my mind thinks," she said angrily. "It's had a hard enough time as it is accepting the fact that you can turn your emotions on and off like a water faucet."

Draco turned towards the sky as thunder rolled in the far distance, wishing they could have this sort of conversation somewhere else—somewhere not beneath Gryffindor Tower where anybody could simply lean out a window and hear their conversation. Thankfully, they both knew to keep their voices low.

"There wouldn't be that problem if you stopped being so _frigid_," he answered. He turned to look back her with his steel unfeeling eyes, draining all her feelings of pity.

"It's times like this that make me lose faith in you," she said, pulling out her wand in preparation for sending up a flare to Harry and Ron. Draco watched her movements and quickly reacted, reaching forward to successfully grab hold of her weapon. She gasped but remained calm, unafraid of the boy before her. He leaned over her with his brow furrowed in a mixture of thought and stinging emotions.

"It's not that hard to trust, Granger," he said between clenched teeth.

"Trusting you is like asking the sun to stop rising," she bit back. He grunted loudly in frustration, sweeping a hand through his hair. Without thinking, he leaned over her, tired of talking and persuading her to do something she couldn't. The truth caused a burning sensation to ripple through his chest, but he thought little of it. His lips hovered centimeters from hers, both of their breaths coming out in long drags of air.

Hermione wanted to stop his actions before it turned into something that she'd shielded herself to reject. She couldn't though, and the magnetic force dragging them together had already been initiated by fate. Her heart began to rip but mend at the same time, fighting with emotions that she'd cared to ignore the past few weeks. She could trust him if he acted more appreciative of her presence.

Lightning broke the evening's calm reserve, shattering the dark night sky with a bolt of light so close that Hermione could feel the electricity. The hairs on her neck stood as she managed to turn her head in time for Draco's lips to serenade her cheek with their touch. She let a slight gasp slip from her lips, suddenly conscious of what could've happened. The clouds parted and droplets of rain began to crash against the soft earth. The ground beneath them became muddy as Draco's eyes went emotionless with thought. He his face away, allowing Hermione enough room to turn her eyes back to face him. Droplets deemed his hair lifeless, the blonde strands of hair drooping into his face. He ran a hand through the strands, causing them to stand upright and in awkward directions. Hermione knew when to not play with fire.

"Can we just go back to the tower?" she asked as thunder rolled loudly.

Draco set down the broom, then raised it with his hand. She climbed on and he slipped on behind her. The two sped up the tower's side and back to the main window to the Gryffindor Tower common room. As they neared the window, Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Something black scrambled on it's limbs around the tower's surface, clambering about the brick like a newt. It was the size of a human but had no features, just a limp shape along the wall that had no content. It moved back and forth rather spasmodically, causing Hermione's pulse to considerably rise. They were so close to the window, but the thing raced after them along the tower's walls. It moved like a spider—too quick to be any human and she had definitely not remembered reading about any type of animal that looked like a human but moved like liquid. She couldn't very well lead it up to the window and cause even more havoc.

Draco finally noticed the creature and instinctively pulled back. The shadow abruptly stopped moving and it seemed to look at the two as they rushed to pull the broom away from the wall. Hermione suddenly remembered that Draco still had her wand and she had no way of grabbing it to send up any flares in time. Her heart pumped loudly against her chest. The creature bridged the gap between them and launched itself at Hermione.


	11. Apologies and Exceptions

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

To Keep it Simple

**Previous Chapter **

_Draco set down the broom, then raised it with his hand. She climbed on and he slipped on behind her. The two sped up the tower's side and back to the main window to the Gryffindor Tower common room. As they neared the window, Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Something black scrambled on it's limbs around the tower's surface, clambering about the brick like a newt. It was the size of a human but had no features, just a limp shape along the wall that had no content. It moved back and forth rather spasmodically, causing Hermione's pulse to considerably rise. They were so close to the window, but the thing raced after them along the tower's walls. It moved like a spider—too quick to be any human and she had definitely not remembered reading about any type of animal that looked like a human but moved like liquid. She couldn't very well lead it up to the window and cause even more havoc. _

_Draco finally noticed the creature and instinctively pulled back. The shadow abruptly stopped moving and it seemed to look at the two as they rushed to pull the broom away from the wall. Hermione suddenly remembered that Draco still had her wand and she had no way of grabbing it to send up any flares in time. Her heart pumped loudly against her chest. The creature bridged the gap between them and launched itself at Hermione._

**Chapter 10- Apologies and Exceptions**

Hermione watched the black shroud come closer and closer, closing the large distance between the still moving broomstick and the tower's wall. The storm clouds were shifting just as quickly as they had arrived but by the time the moon pierced through, she wouldn't have enough time to send up flares _and_ live long enough to be saved. She turned her head to the side and leaned out towards the left, half her body weight held thousands of feet above the ground with no support whatsoever. Her heart screamed to be released from her chest, pure adrenaline pounding in her ears. When she looked down, her head spun for several brief seconds. The world certainly looked much different from an altitude of several thousand feet. She squinted her eyes tightly shut and swallowed the bile that threatened to escape. As time passed and with no sign of movement, she opened her eyes and saw a bright light.

"Oh God, I must be dead," she whispered as she tried to focus.

"Well now, isn't that a pity," a voice said from behind her. She jerked around, nearly falling off the broomstick. Draco clasped his hands firmly around her waist and repositioned her safely on their vehicle of choice. The moon's circular figure slowly came into view and Hermione shook her head in both humiliation and frustration.

"What just happened?" she demanded of Draco as they glided back to the tower were a fuming Ron and Harry awaited.

"I've read about these things," he softly said to himself, disregarding Hermione and her questions. They gently landed on the floor of the common room.

Harry rushed forward and took his broom as Draco and Hermione slid off of it. He leaned it against a nearby table and folded his arms across his chest, mimicking Ron's movements.

"I am going to count to five before all Hell breaks loose and I snap your neck, Malfoy," he said angrily, his fingers already rippling with the anticipation. Draco rose a brow and pulled back a chair, falling into it with the easiness of a feline—as if nothing had even happened. Hermione pulled off her soaking robe and placed it on the floor, pulling out a seat for herself. She placed her hands in her lap and shook her head, unable to explain what her eyes had just told her.

"One.."

Hermione brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and turned towards Draco, awaiting his explanation of the events that had just occurred before them.

"Two.."

Harry turned towards Ron who seemed very intent on causing some sort of havoc, and sighed, shaking his head in disapproval. He pulled aside a seat for himself and folded his arms across his chest.

"Five!" Ron yelled out, purposely skipping several important numbers. He launched himself at Draco, who being the slick and slimy snake that he was, was able to remove himself from his chair before Ron could propel his entire body weight into him. The chair was faced with the deadly blow and as Ron collided with it, the two fell to the floor. The wooden chair collapsed and shattered into a numerous amount of splintered pieces. The red head quickly pulled himself up, dusting off his shoulders. He coughed into a balled up fist and turned towards Draco.

"I say, that went rather well, don't you think?" he said innocently. As he turned to lean upon the table, his feet were busy scraping the remnants of the chair beneath the large couch opposing them.

Hermione shook her head and faced Draco, crossing her legs and arms in the process.

"Care to explain?" she asked. Draco glanced towards the pile of books on the table beside him but seeing as that what he seeked was nowhere to be found, turned back towards the group before him.

"_The Rise and the Fall of the Dark Arts_. Does the book title ring a bell? With any of you dolts?" he inquired. Hermione quirked a brow but disacknowledged his pointless insult.

"It's about the rise and fall of the dark arts, I'm guessing?" she said sarcastically.

"Thank you, Granger, for pointing out the obvious—once again," he sneered. "Any way.. it talks about a thing called the Umbramotum."

"A shadow mover?" Hermione asked, quickly translating the Latin. "A shadow mover!"

Upon realization of the association of the name with the creature, she immediately understood.

"It disappeared after the moon came out because it no longer had the cover of darkness to work under! But.. did it just die? Or did it.. go some place else.."

"It would be smart to close the window," Draco said as he stared holes into Ron. Ron quickly rushed to lock the still open window, his coloring slowly draining into a pale white color that made him look rather pasty. He rushed back and purposely stood near the blazing fire.

"So would you two like to tell us what exactly happened down there?" Harry asked.

Hermione glanced towards Draco who seemed more focus on burning off the dirt and mud on his shoes with his fiery glare.

"When we were flying back up, we saw this—this _thing._ It was like water and it just kind of flowed up the tower. It was absolutely horrific—even though there was no distinctive features because it was all just a black mass of moving.. moving.. mess. When it tried to jump out towards me and Draco, the clouds parted and the moon's light must've done something to it.."

"There are no shadows when there's light," Harry said in revelation, finally tuning into the conversation that Hermione and Draco had been having. He nodded his head in understanding, but quickly turned to Draco, questions overfilling the brim of his curiosity.

"Where does it come from?" Ron asked.

"Powerful wizards and witches conjure them up—of course, you'd have to be someone who practices the dark arts in

order to perform such a feat. Pureblood too," he said, shooting a look at Hermione that nearly caused her to lose her balance—even though she was sitting. "Way back when—they used them to infiltrate places—where purebloods did not reside. Of course, it's nearly impossible to make one nowadays because of the price of the materials and the fact that it would take an extremely powerful in both fame and money to create something like that.."

Ron coughed loudly, receiving a stare from all three other members still left in the common room.

"We're past that already, _Ron_," Hermione warned. "Draco is _not _a threat so it must be someone else.."

Draco blinked but avoided making eye contact with Hermione, knowing that she was probably staring at him at that very moment. He shrugged off the feeling and turned back towards pulling the threads from his wet robe.

"That Ron double that we saw lying on the floor—it was the same Umbramotum that tried to attack Granger. It takes the form of the person requested of it and infiltrates in that manner as well. In that form, it has no shadow because it is the shadow—but it also cannot be destroyed by light in that form either. Either way, which ever form it takes, it will have an equal amount of flaws. It escaped by opening the window on it's own and it must've been waiting for us somewhere on the grounds."

"For the first time in my life, Malfoy, I think you may have actually helped someone for a _good _cause," Harry said. "If you knew all of this, why didn't you tell us when you first saw it so we could've stopped it?"

"I wasn't sure until I saw it turn into it's shadow form," he bit back. With a brief sigh, he glanced at the large clock in the common room. It was three in the morning—roughly.

"I have one question to ask though," Draco said to no one in particular. "Why is it after Granger?"

"What do you mean? It's after Harry, isn't it?" Ron asked, unsure of where he was heading with his questions.

"If it was after Harry, it would've gone up the tower and attacked Harry instead of killing itself by throwing it's body at Granger," he quickly pointed out, standing up with the growing amount of confusion running through his head. The storm clouds gathered around the moon again and Ron turned to look nervously at Harry.

"Without the moonlight, nothing's going to stop that thing from crawling into Hogwarts again. There could be open windows all over the school," he said in a hushed tone.

"It's only after one person—and if that one person keeps their lights on, it's got no chance," Harry explained.

"Exactly," Hermione reassured them all, standing up to stretch at the same time. "Right now I would like to get some sleep. We have all of tomorrow to research so let's all just get some shut eye and we can work better in the A.M., when there's

light.."

"Right then," Ron said, rubbing his eyes. He followed Harry up to the Boys' dormitory, but upon reaching the top of the steps, promptly turned around and pointed at Draco with a menacing finger. "If one _hair_ on her is harmed—I swear. I'll kick your arse so badly that you'll be walking on your hands for the rest your _life_!"

With that said, the two companions quietly walked into their respective rooms and left Draco and Hermione to themselves in the common room.

"Well, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow then," Hermione said as she unknowingly walked him to the door. He ignored her comment and turned to open the port. Before he could take a step out, Hermione hesitantly ran the hem of her shirt through her hands. She suddenly reached out for his shoulder and managed to pull him back.

"I just wanted to let you know that you have my trust," she said. He turned and raised a brow, his expression breaking into a sneer.

"Nice try, Granger, but that doesn't fix everything," he said. "I think we've both overstayed our welcomes."

Hermione reached out for his shoulder once again to turn him around.

"I'm giving you my trust, you _git_. Do you not understand how much self control it takes for me to say that you have my

trust and then not take it back? You're shameless, Draco Malfoy. Maybe it is better that you walk right out that door and pretend you have no responsibilities at all."

"_I_ am shameless? Quite the comedian, you are, Granger. One second, we're sleeping together and the next—you're off denying that anything ever happened. You're just afraid of the consequences—Little Miss Goody Goody wouldn't want this stain on her clean record, now would she?"

Hermione shook her head.

"We shouldn't be talking about this right now," she said, turning to look nervously out the large closed windows.

"You're scared, aren't you?" Draco revealed with a smirk. Hermione glared at him. He quickly realized that she was probably feeling immense tons of confusion and anxiety at the moment—knowing that a dangerous killer was out to end her life. He turned his body fully around and let the port close behind him. He wanted to avoid having any contact with her whatsoever but at the same time—wanted to crack her open and see what lay inside.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Making sure you live long enough to have this argument again," he said with a forced sneer. He clasped her wrist in his hand and began to guide her towards the steps which would lead to her room.

Hermione wasn't sure whether to feel relief or intrusion, but went along with it any way because being safe was always better than being sorry. All of a sudden, the creature didn't seem so horrifically traumatizing with Draco around. She warned herself that it was because he had background knowledge of the animal which she did not and would not have until tomorrow. The fear slowly turned from a boiling churning cauldron in her stomach to a simmering kettle. She had to admit her feelings to him sooner or later—but by then—who knew what he would consider the flavor of the week. Her eyes cast downward at the thought, but until then—he was hers. She smirked and followed as quickly as she could.

When they reached her room, she unlocked the door and then locked it again even though it would act as little protection against anything that lingered in the dark. Draco let go of her arm and quickly moved to sit down in an armchair, falling into the large plush seating as was his manner. She gasped and moved to push him from the seat, her nightgown having been conveniently placed where his rear had been several seconds ago.

She blinked after realizing that Draco's robes were still wet—meaning that her nightgown was wet as well. With an angry mixture of sounds, she tossed her gown back onto the floor and clambered into her bed, not bothering to change for obvious reasons.

"I suggest you take off your robes before you catch a cold—or before you ruin my armchair," Hermione advised, taking off the thin gray sweater as she spoke. With one less layer to keep her down, she slipped further beneath the covers, leaving the lights on.

Something moved in alongside her and she froze, already having predicted this event. She turned around, prepared to let loose a string of insults and comments that she was sure her mother would never approve of her saying. His hand covered her mouth just as she prepared to speak. He moved quickly and was soon clutching her body to his, the sheets reaching up to their shoulders. His breath was steady, but she could feel his irregular heart beat. He was forcing himself to breathe at a normal pace.

"Don't move, Granger," he whispered harshly into her ear. She blinked and stopped all movement, having learned to trust Draco's instincts. His gaze was directed towards her window. The curtains were pulled back but the panes were clasped shut.

Outside of the window, where storm clouds provided sanctuary for creatures of the night, hung one particular creature that Hermione would preferred to have not seen on a night such as this. Three encounters in one evening was not exactly considered a lucky thing. The black mass had a human shape, but no human features. It was once again, the detail-missing shroud of darkness that had limbs which moved like water. It's head looked as though it's hair was made of string, nasty yarns of lumpy darkness which clung to it's body. Uncontrollable shivers convulsed down her spine. The creature hung upside down—tap-tap-tapping at the window pane, taunting her and filling her insides with fear. Hermione would've bet anything that if the creature did have a face, it would be smiling directly at her, smiling with dripping fangs and eyes filled with red menace. The dim lamp in her room only covered so far as up to the bed where it could protect Hermione's body—but nothing further.

"It attacks by sensing movement," Draco advised her. "But it can't get in here any way because it hasn't taken human form and there's too much light. It's better to be safe than sorry, though. Do not move, Granger—and do not, above all, try and stupid tricks to try and scare it away. You'll just provoke it."

He whispered into her hair so that the creature couldn't see his lips moving. At least he had taken off his wet robe.

The creature, seeing no action, slowly crawled away, like a spider. Hermione immediately turned towards Draco, pulling his hand from her face.

 "We _have_ to tell someone before it comes back," she urged, her eyes wide with uncontrolled emotions. He nodded and slid from the bed. Before Hermione could move though, she saw the creature sidling into view once more through the mirror opposing her. It's lithe body was slowly crawling back onto the window and when she saw this, she tried to call out to Draco. However, he was already moving and speaking at the same time—a very dangerous combination. Hermione turned her head as she quickly sat up, afraid of what was bound to happen next.

The shadow creature suddenly lost control and began furiously banging on the window. Hermione gasped in horror as it succeeded in loosening the panes just a small bit—enough to allow it's entrance into her room. She froze. So long as she didn't move and stayed in the light she was safe. Draco rushed for his robe to grab both of their wands, having forgotten that he was still in possession of both.

           "It's heading for the canopy, get out of the bed!" he yelled, pulling out his wand to ready himself for an attack. Hermione stumbled, rolling around and tangling herself in the covers. The creature squeezed through the space in the window and moved along the shadowy crevices of the room, watching and waiting for the best opportunity to attack. Hermione stumbled from the bed and watched as her hand reached out to grab Draco's hand. It missed and as she steadied herself, the blanket that she dragged with her pulled the lamp off the night stand. The two watched as the lamp fell onto the ground and shattered—sending the room into total darkness.


	12. Predictable Fate

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

To Keep it Simple

**Previous Chapter**

_ "It's heading for the canopy, get out of the bed!" he yelled, pulling out his wand to ready himself for an attack. Hermione stumbled, rolling around and tangling herself in the covers. The creature squeezed through the space in the window and moved along the shadowy crevices of the room, watching and waiting for the best opportunity to attack. Hermione stumbled from the bed and watched as her hand reached out to grab Draco's hand. It missed and as she steadied herself, the blanket that she dragged with her pulled the lamp off the night stand. The two watched as the lamp fell onto the ground and shattered—sending the room into total darkness._

**Chapter 11-** Predictable Fate

"Alohomora!" Hermione hissed to her awaiting audience of darkness. Unknown to her, the wand she so desperately sought was conveniently in the possession of a certain blonde haired slytherin prat. She cursed a bucket of unprofessional terms and lunged into the body which stood alongside her. They both tumbled to the ground, their bodies collapsing one atop the other in a relentless collision of flesh and bones with solid carpeted floor. Though Hermione could see little in the black abyss which surrounded her, she could see Draco's very unexpected look of surprise.

"Where is my wand, you git!" she whispered hoarsely into his ear. His scent was very distracting- his simple male odor mixed with the remnants of whatever expensive cologne he may have dabbed over himself caused her to lose focus for—a while. Her body lay draped over his, her abdomen dangerously close to his crotch—which seemed to be reacting to their severe closeness. His blonde hair was pointed in all odd directions, still wet from their rendezvous in the bitter rain shower which was now a fierce storm. Her hand rested atop his left pectoral, the strong support stealing her self control and at the same time—giving her a peek into the resolutely calm Draco Malfoy. If not for the fact that she could sense the trickling shadow which crawled closer and closer with each passing moment moving towards them—she would have given into the wordless seduction. His hand found itself searching for her wand among the deep folds of his pockets. As soon as his fingers lay rest upon the first long rod they could find, he thrust it from his pocket and into her awaiting palm.

Hermione quickly rolled off of him and onto her back, pointing the wand brazenly into the wide open.

"Lumos!" she yelled into the darkness before her, trusting her intuition to guide her out of the blind state that she had found herself entangled in. The stream of light erupted from the tip of the wand, bursting directly into the Umbramotum which had taken a roost atop her night stand—inches away. The creature, unprepared for the bolt, screeched in agony and slammed against the wall, it's black limbs stretched and turned in impossible directions. It evaporated in large pieces into pure nothingness—but Hermione knew the moment to escape would not last long. The wand's tip simmered and became the small bright light that it was known for being. Draco stood, dusting his arms off and staring irreverently at the scene of the crime. He turned towards Hermione, brow furrowed in both a mixture of thought and confusion.

"That isn't your wand, Granger," he growled.

"What are you talking about? It has to be mine or else it would have backfired—"

"That wand is _mine_."

"Your wand—" Draco whispered angrily as he pulled the object of his accusations from his pocket, "Is made of willow."

He slid the wand across the polished oak table, his back faced towards the fire place. Hermione snatched it off the table's surface and examined both rods closely. Draco's wand—which she had previously put into use just minutes ago—was made of yew—unsurprisingly the wood of death and the same wood of which _other_ wizards had used. Hers was willow—much lighter—also a few inches shorter. She pursed her lips in thought, her mind frazzled from a lack of sleep and her nerves pinched from the recent attack. One very farfetched explanation rose to her mind.

"I think we should try and—and get some sleep and then we can.. we can think _clearer_ tomorrow."

Draco rose a brow and languidly fell into a comfortable position along the couch facing the roaring blaze.

"I'll keep watch," he stiffly replied, leaning forward to rest his forearms across his knees. His hands hung limply, years of mysterious toil engraved in the strong digits which he periodically flexed—thank goodness he wasn't the type who often cracked their knuckles and joints for the pure pleasure of it all. Hermione pondered how he'd become so—built—in such a short period of time. Her tongue itched to relinquish the question.

"Well? Aren't you going to get your _beauty _rest or do you need someone to read you a story and tuck you in?"

Hermione staggered back into reality, greeting Draco's curious stare with a blank expression. She nodded lifelessly and fell into a nearby armchair, the plush seating sinking in response. She was not in the least bit ready to go to sleep.

"Actually—I think I'll take the first watch. I'm not very tired at all and I'd feel safer that way," she quickly explained, noting that she was not in the least bit responsible for the fibs that trickled from her lips. With a quick concluding series of nods, she stood and sat down on the opposing end of the couch, unsure of the reasoning behind her thoughtless actions. Draco shrugged to cover his surprise and pulled his feet up onto the cushions. He slipped off his black shoes and turned onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows inches away from Hermione.

"I hope you don't mind—but if you haven't noticed, I've taken a liking to your lap and I prefer to be near it, if not in it, at all times," he slyly said, a malicious smirk carving itself into his cold features. Hermione clucked her tongue and sighed—it was bound to happen sooner or later. The Slytherin waited as she pulled her legs up beneath her, smoothing out the ruined pleated skirt—though it made no difference whether it was rumpled or not. He then lay his head down atop her legs and let his eyes slowly close.

Hermione waited until his breathing became steady. She'd taken mental notes on his sleeping habits—in which case, he had none. He kept his mouth tightly shut, his position stayed same the entire duration of his slumber. It was nearly five in the morning and the sun was proceeding to break the storm clouds apart, shedding light on a hopefully prosperous day. Draco still slumbered though and her eyelids were yet to grow heavy with fatigue.

"Slytherin git," she whispered quietly, hoping that her voice could only touch her ears. She doubted Draco's attention was still with her, though. "What _are _you hiding from me?"

She brushed her hand through his hair, the tempting allure which demanded that she touch him too strong to control. Her fingers danced through his forest of blonde streaks, shivers running down her spine.

"You're always so exclusive… you ignore what you have and crave for what isn't in your possession. The politician of the future—perhaps? Or maybe a lost little boy who played with fire and didn't like it—but he's addicted now. What are you thinking, Draco? I want to be let in but you're always leading me through trapdoors—do you simply enjoy the chase or am I missing something that is so obvious I can't see it? So many secrets, so much deception, and we're just so young.."

Hermione craned her neck towards the window, greeting the warm sun with an effortless grin. She turned her head to the side and fell into a needed slumber, her body settling before her mind could catch up. Her hands slipped from Draco's head.

"You even try to analyze me in my sleep, Granger," he whispered in a hushed tone, slowly gathering himself into a sitting position. She was so vulnerable and so unprepared for the creature which lay in the shadows awaiting her unexpecting guise. Her words had definitely stung—for they told a fairy tale that so closely resembled one of which he had experienced and he had been under the belief that she knew little of him or his background. He pondered her safety. The sun was out—yet the Umbramotum could be lurking in the shadows—anywhere. His mind quickly settled—but being caught sleeping in the common room would no doubt result in the loss of both of their reputations. He bent down and picked up her body in his arms.

The remnants of the creature had disappeared from the walls—certainly not a surprise. Draco shuffled the splinters of glass into a corner and turned back towards Hermione, who had already dozed off. He glanced at the other empty half of the bed—empty for a reason—his own reason. He could've seduced her in a matter of seconds—if it weren't for the simple fact that she was Hermione and not a ditzy tramp such as.. Pansy. He turned towards the bed and sat down, kicking his legs up as he spun to face the canopy. That blasted canopy. The sun was bouncing off the mirror as he thought, though, covering all traces of shadow in pure sunlight. They were safe for the time being. He placed his arms beneath his head and grunted as he tried to find a more comfortable position.

Hours later, Hermione tossed in her sleep, her eyes fluttering open for several brief seconds.

"What in the name of—" she stuttered as she tried to rotate her body off the bed. Draco clutched her hand—but not knowing his own strength, when trying to pull her onto the bed, pulled her into himself. He rocked on the edge of the bed but with nothing to hold onto but Hermione, fell onto the floor. His head hit the ground with a large –thud– and no sooner had the pain begun, did Hermione fall atop him. He moaned softly in dissatisfaction, but managed to prop himself up on his elbows to look at the burden atop his chest.

"At least we both now know you're good for one thing—breaking my fall," she said as she patted his stomach while at the same time pushing herself into a standing position. Draco leaned forward without warning and pulled her back down atop him, holding her by her waist. She toppled forward again, knocking the air from his lungs, but providing a deep pleasure that only he would ever know.

"We are going to finish that argument," he commanded. Hermione scoffed, using her feet to propel her body away from his. She stood up and dusted herself off, purposely avoiding eye contact.

"_We_ are going to find out how to get rid of that umbramotum," she sharply replied, once again weaving the topic of conversation away from the area of conflict. Draco quirked a brow and with little effort, pushed himself into a standing position.

"I don't think you heard me correctly, Granger—we are going to put this argument to the grave. Potter and Weasley aren't even up yet—it's—" Draco quickly glanced at the clock,"—bloody six in the morning. The library's not even open."

"We could look through our school books and find some sort of potion or charm—"

"The possibility that there is _anything _in our _books_ about an umbramotum is idiotic—"

"Who says?"

"Oh, right, forgive me Granger, I seemed to have been under the impression that our schoolbooks _didn't_ include how to annihilate supposedly nonexistent and illegal creatures of _death_."

"What do you call our Defense Against the Dark Arts books then?"

"We do not _have_ any Defense Against the Dark Arts books—all the books we_ use_ are from the library—which is _closed_."

Hermione stomped her foot hard against the plush carpet of her bedroom floor, having already known that they did not carry around books for their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. She had simply hoped that Draco had not—even though it wouldn't have made sense if he hadn't. After all, they both held the highest marks in all their classes. She allowed a sigh to struggled past her lips as she fell into her armchair. Draco leaned against one of her bedposts and folded his arms across his chest. A thin blanket of exhaustion dropped over the both of them.

"All right, all right, let's just get this over with," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"If it's that much of a pain, let's not," Draco said. Hermione nearly fell from her chair from the amount of frustration that was building on her shoulders. She frowned but shrugged in a fake show of her ignorance. Draco nodded in response and walked toward the door. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense to hold it off. He was in no way planning on forcing an explanation out of her. She'd have to do it on her own, even if that meant giving up everything he'd sacrificed for. He mentally waved good-bye to the numerous amount of opportunities before him in which he could nag Hermione into responding. It was entirely up to Hermione now to initiate a conversation of understanding between them.

"Where are you going?" she asked with her brow furrowed.

"It's not six—it's ten," he muttered.

Hermione glanced at her clock and mentally slapped herself for being so unobservant. She feared that it was just another sign of how trusting she had become to Draco. Sooner or later, she'd become entirely dependent on him and even though the concept seemed horrific, she looked forward to it.

Harry and Ron sat at their usual table, playing another predictable game of Wizard's Chess. The pieces shifted back and forth and attacked with a vengeance that Hermione was no doubt used to. They had paused their game upon watching a disgruntled Hermione pursuing a blank Draco down the steps.

"Research?" Hermione inquired taking a quick look at her image in the mirror above the mantle. She looked somewhat frazzled but all together, it looked as though she'd stayed up for another cram session. It was Saturday once again, a day where students were free to do as they please and were given a break from their studies to sleep in and converse with companions. The library was usually empty this time of week.

Harry stood up before Ron could command his piece and once again, win the game. Ron muttered an incoherent string of curses beneath his breath—but all in good fun. He stood and followed the silent Draco as they headed towards the exit.

Harry nudged Hermione in the side as they walked across the common room.

"What happened?" he asked, trying to keep a straight face as they walked.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but quickly pulled her lips together. Draco turned to look at her rather menacingly, but his look did not hurt her so much as it caused her to wonder about his background. Harry smiled and waved cheerfully- the usual image of the Gryffindor boy wonder. Draco sneered and turned back to face the empty hallway before them. Ron straggled alongside the Slytherin, his eyes darting between him and the friends behind him.

"Later," she mouthed to the boy beside her.

They proceed in silence to the library.

"Well, nothing in this book either," Ron said with a shrug, tossing the leather bound novel into the large and growing pile of books on the floor. Hermione shot him another glare, warning him to treat the books with as much care as if they were children. The librarian, luckily, was on the other side of the library—yet Hermione found it her duty to make sure that everything that left the shelves was kept in just as perfect condition as they had been upon first contact with the shelves. Ron held his hands up offensively, one hand toting another book.

"They don't have feelings, Hermione," he said with a slight smile. She ignored him and continued skimming the book titles on the book cases.

"Do we have _anything?_ Anything at all?" she asked.

"Nope, nothing," Harry replied sadly.

"Well, what about that book that Draco mentioned—_the Rise and the Fall of the Dark Arts_?"

"I think he's looking for it right now—where'd he go?"

Hermione managed to pull herself away from the books and shrugged. With a sigh she turned to the next bookcase and continued her search.

Draco, meanwhile, was looking for information on the dangers of wand switching. His mind was still lingering on how his wand had managed to react to Hermione's commands in a perfectly decent and respectable manner—no large crashes or bolts of lightning. Of course, it could have been that they were both compatible in every which way—thus allowing Hermione control over the wand's powers—but Draco had to be sure. He pulled _Where There's a Wand, There's a Way_ from the shelf and sat down, flipping the book open to take a quick glimpse.

"I'm going to go look for Draco," she said, turning towards Harry and Ron. It was almost noon—time for lunch—and she imagined that all three of her male companions were starving for a break and some nourishment. So far she had turned up empty handed and the less she found, the more frustrated she got. _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts _was not where it was supposed to be which simply sent her nerves delirious with confusion. She would have to ask the librarian about it later. As for now, she was more intent on finding the location of Draco.

As he'd predicted, the wand had only worked with Hermione for fate-associated reasons. The farther he got himself entangled in the mess he was in, the more expectant he became of such awkward twists and turns along the way. He closed the book and shook his head as he placed it back on the shelf. The book only reassured his suspicions. The wand he had did not effect the people he loved—for obvious reasons. He sighed and turned just in time to see Hermione walking towards him. She smirked and waved, standing a reasonable distance away.

"Lunch," she said.

Draco nodded, but even though he wanted to smile in reply or show some sort of emotion, it seemed impossible. He stared at her with a blank expression and cold eyes and brushed past her, leaving her standing alone.

Meanwhile, someone watched the two exchange their silent regards. She smirked and continued writing on her scroll of paper—even though he quill had not even been dipped in ink. She'd expected them to come here and research the thing she'd sent—and she'd expected none other then Draco to be the one to tell them what it was. It was all working out perfectly and soon enough she'd have what she wanted—and they'd never figure out it was her, either. She pulled on the green sweater vest, pressing out the wrinkles and stood, picking up her checked out copy of _the Rise and the Fall of the Dark Arts._


	13. Everywhere You Turn

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

To Keep it Simple

**Previous Chapter**

_As he'd predicted, the wand had only worked with Hermione for fate-associated reasons. The farther he got himself entangled in the mess he was in, the more expectant he became of such awkward twists and turns along the way. He closed the book and shook his head as he placed it back on the shelf. The book only reassured his suspicions. The wand he had did not effect the people he loved—for obvious reasons. He sighed and turned just in time to see Hermione walking towards him. She smirked and waved, standing a reasonable distance away. _

_ "Lunch," she said. _

_ Draco nodded, but even though he wanted to smile in reply or show some sort of emotion, it seemed impossible. He stared at her with a blank expression and cold eyes and brushed past her, leaving her standing alone. _

_ Meanwhile, someone watched the two exchange their silent regards. She smirked and continued writing on her scroll of paper—even though he quill had not even been dipped in ink. She'd expected them to come here and research the thing she'd sent—and she'd expected none other then Draco to be the one to tell them what it was. It was all working out perfectly and soon enough she'd have what she wanted—and they'd never figure out it was her, either. She pulled on the green sweater vest, pressing out the wrinkles and stood, picking up her checked out copy of the Rise and the Fall of the Dark Arts. _

**Chapter 12-** **Everywhere You Turn**

"Seeing as that the school year is approximately half over and the first years have gained a rough understanding of the rules they are to follow—Dumbledore and I have decided that there is no longer any reason to continue with the night sessions. I'm sure you are both relieved."

The witch folded a hands respectively in her lap, her half rimmed spectacles adding an intense look of wisdom to her aged features. She tilted her chin up a little higher and stood, nodding weakly as she turned to look at the two prefects.

"You two will determine a way to end your charade, am I correct?" she inquired.

Hermione nodded and shifted her parchments from one arm to the other, her hands aching to grab hold of her robe's ends and twist. The professor smiled and turned, departing from their presence as quickly as she entered it.

Draco turned to look at the Gryffindor prefect, his brow furrowing with an intense mixture of unexplainable emotions. He parted his lips to speak, but though otherwise and began walking as they had been doing before being so rudely interrupted. Hermione, frozen with shock and confusion, quickly regained her senses and hurried after him.

"Draco," she whispered down the deserted hall. All the students were presently in the dining hall, no doubt clueless of what the two prefects had just gone through. Harry and Ron had hurried ahead, entrusting Draco with the life of their dear Gryffindor companion. Seeds of friendship were beginning to sprout but no sooner had they been watered were they trampled upon. The gray eyed Slytherin slowed in his step, realizing that Hermione could not keep up with his suddenly brisk pace.

"What are we going to do?" she finally said after catching her breath. She had grabbed his sleeve to beckon for him to slow down, but had instead grabbed the feather of his quill and had pulled it unknowingly from his grasp. As he stared at her, she tucked the quill in between her books. He seemed more intent on ending the conversation then the whereabouts of his quill.

"Do about what?" Draco carelessly replied. Hermione furrowed her brow as they began walking again—at a reasonable pace.

"About this!" she exclaimed, gesturing to him and then back to her in a rapid succession of flicks of her index finger. Her voice was slowly beginning to heighten and Draco refused to have them turned into the butt of attention upon entrance into the dining hall. He pulled to a halt.

"Nobody knows that the sessions are over yet so stop turning it into something it's not. We'll stage a break-up later," he said as calmly as he would have said anything less serious. Hermione held in the gawk that was scratching at the surface of her facial features and blinked.

"Are you even serious?" she said, her voice intertwined with a hint of a hiss. "I think it would be wise to first get me out of this muddle with that blasted umbramotum before moving on."

"Who's to say we can't focus on that after we've resolved our conflict?" he said, moving into a walk again. They were nearing the entrance to the dining hall and Hermione was still lingering over the subject. Draco snatched the sleeve of her robe before they moved into view of the other students.

"Sit with Potter and Weasley. It won't seem so suspicious when we end the relationship later," he commanded. Hermione was shocked with confusion and a mixture of hurt and pain but did her best to hide it.

"Right.. right. That sounds good," she managed to stutter out. Draco nodded reassuringly but turned away with a ripple of his robe's hem. He gave her one last meaningless stare before walking in to greet his companions. Hermione stood by herself in the hall, helpless and tired.

Moments ago they had been focused on one problem and trying to resolve it as a team. Now their bond had been shattered and was thus, leaving Hermione more vulnerable then she had been before. The memories of the umbramotum lurked in her memory and she wanted only to have somebody by her side to comfort her. The only problem was that he had left her to survive on her own and although she had wanted them to stop playing fools and admitting untrue confessions, she only wanted him at that very second. She gathered her wits and decided to act as coldly to him as he had to her. With a broken heart dragging behind her, she pulled on a cheery façade and walked into the dining hall.

Draco did his best to conceal the pain that was digging into his body like thousands of needles and pins being stabbed into him at once. His lips were clamped shut in a tight line and his nostrils flared slightly, but nothing too out of the ordinary that his lunch companions hadn't already become accustomed to. As soon as he sat down though, they were all wise to steer clear of bad conversation.

"Oh Draco," an annoyingly high pitched voice cooed from nearby. He grunted his disapproval and turned to greet the pug-faced Pansy Parkinson. With a sign, he proceeded into the realm of the unknown by embarking upon small talk with a dolt.

"You're not sitting with that fickle mudblood anymore," she said with a too cheery tone. "Do I sense a break up?"

Draco narrowed his eyes in disbelief at the length of her nose and how easily it intruded into other people's business.

"You know just as well as I do that the relationship me and Hermione had was entirely fake," he said angrily, earning him several stares from those around him. Unknown to Hermione and Draco, a majority of students had been rooting for their relationship's sincerity to lead honest relationships between other houses.

"Oh really now," Pansy said, a smile suddenly coming across her features as her attention began to move elsewhere. "It certainly didn't seem like it was fake."

Draco began to become annoyed with her prying but he did what he could only do to keep the belief that he was not honestly involved with a mudblood to light. Then again, it hadn't seemed as though that many Slytherins had disapproved of his behavior. But his family name, his reputation—all down the drain.. for Hermione? The conflict played out in his head but without thinking thoroughly, he decided.

"Did you think that I'd get myself involved with that mudblood? Your standards for me are too low, Parkinson. If you haven't realized, Hermione isn't my type," he said, quickly bluffing a series of excuses to cover his reasoning. Pansy raised a brow as she turned her attention back to him.

"What did you call her? And what did you call me?"

Draco blinked.

"What are you talking about?" he sneered.

"You called her Hermione—you called that _mudblood_, Hermione," she said, her eyes shooting daggers. "Then again—maybe the mudblood herself can tell us why you called her by her first name."

Draco's chest suddenly screamed with an unbearable pain that clawed at his ribcage and stole his breath. He slowly rotated in his seat and turned to greet Hermione, appalled and eyes wide with both pain and confusion. He opened his mouth to explain, but only air came out.

"You forgot this, _Draco_," she said, dropping his quill conveniently in his lap. "And you're right, Pansy. Why would a person like Draco involved himself with a _mudblood _such as myself."

The entire table's attention seemed to be focused on the conflict brewing before them. If they weren't careful, soon the entire dining room would be listening to them and they did not need the first years knowing the reasoning behind their nightly sessions. Draco found his voice again but when he managed to squeeze a syllable of regret out, Hermione quickly slammed it down.

"I'm not fit to have a relationship with a Slytherin, being the Gryffindor that I am, isn't that right? So that's how this is going to work? A non stop cycle of hate because gits like you, Pansy, will never stop believing that it isn't possible. Well, let me tell you—let me tell all of you—Draco was completely… wrong," she said, her voice falling to a dead whisper at the end of her brief statement.

"I think the real question now is—why would I involve myself with scum like Draco, here? Hm.. well let's see—he says slander about me behind my back. He considers himself the better one in this relationship because he's a pureblood and I.. am not.. and he thinks I should be grateful to even be in his presence."

The full attention of all members of the table were now on her and as she continued, more and more distaste was beginning to direct itself at Draco.

"And worst of all, he can't tell the difference between what's real and what isn't."

The look Hermione gave Draco was enough to fill in decades of experience. His wall that surrounded him so stubbornly was beginning to tremble with each passing second. More then just Hermione's eyes were upon him but the only ones of which he could see were hers. Suddenly, a pair of arms snaked around Draco's neck from the back. They clutched on lovingly but in a strangling manner and Draco froze.

Pansy smirked devilishly and ran her tongue seductively along Draco's ear lobe. Hermione's shoulders rose but the gasp did not come.

"You're absolutely right. I am the real deal and you are not—but Draco's already been able to see that," Pansy said. Only Draco could see the water slowly rising up to cover Hermione's eyes in a film of tears. She refused to stoop to Pansy's level and without a word, turned her back on Draco and rushed to the exit. As quickly as she had lodged her existence into Draco's life, she was about to remove it. Pansy smiled as hundreds of pairs of eyes watched her with malice.

Harry and Ron had watched the entire scenerio from afar and it had taken both of their mental strengths' capacities and the strength of several Gryffindor students to keep them from launching a full fledged attack on Draco. The dining hall was utterly silent except for Pansy's brief snickers of triumph as students, dreamers and hopefuls waited for Draco's decision.

Draco watched Hermione's retreating back and for the first time in his life, he felt something slip out of his fingers that he could not buy back using any arrangement of galleons or other assortment of money. His throat grew parched and the fact that Pansy was clinging to him churned the bile in his abdomen. He suddenly stood up and threw Pansy's arms off of his shoulders, a look of disgust obvious on his features.

"What are you doing?" he heard her high pitched voice shriek after him as he ran after her.

"What do you think I'm doing, you loose git," he hollered back, earning himself a echoing string of applause. Hermione was so close to departing from the dining hall but he was easily gaining on her. Pansy continued to complain from her roost at the other end of the dining hall.

"Why are you going after that mudblood!" she shrieked.

"Because—because.." Draco's voice grew quiet again as time slowed and eyes of attentive students trailed after him. He saw her about to break past the doors and leave with untrue thoughts in her head. He couldn't let himself hurt her like that—because she had done the impossible and had given him room to believe in someone other then himself—he believed in her.

"I love her," he called out, loudly enough for the entire hall to hear and to surprise Harry and Ron enough to have them tumble from their seats. Hermione halted in her step and turned around, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. He closed the last several feet before them and quickly tightened his arms around her. He wiped away the droplets on her cheeks.

"Hermione Granger—please—for-.. for.."

Draco was stumbling over words, unable to ask what he was just about to ask. It was all that was left that was supporting the heavy wall of pain and hurt around him and if he pulled that out—then all that would be left would be him, vulnerable and weak. Was he willing to sacrifice that all for her? He didn't need to think twice to find his answer.

"Forgive me," he pleaded.

Hermione watched as their drama became a soap opera for the entire dining hall. She blinked away the remnants of her tears and glanced around at the hopefuls surrounding her. Then she spotted Ron and Harry in the back of the dining hall, approval beaming from their faces. Well—if her two companions approved—she could only do one thing.

"How could I not?" she said with a shrug. Draco picked her up and spun her in a circle. Hermione closed her eyes and laughed.

When she opened her eyes again, she was still in his arms but—in another position. They hadn't done anything intimate—they had simply shared a conversation and fallen to sleep to the sound of each other's voices. Hermione's window had been pushed wide open and the thoughts of the umbramotum had drifted away. Now that they had admitted their feelings to one another so bluntly, all their worries and problems no longer existed—even if in reality they still very much did.

The students had approved of everybody's behavior that afternoon—all except for Pansy. What had happened to her, nobody knew. After Hermione and Draco had been swarmed by a number of students with questions and only good wishes, Pansy has stormed off in anger. The two prefects hadn't noticed at all.

Draco woke up to the night's beckoning and the moon's seductive glow. He curled his hand tighter around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him—as if that was possible. She sighed and patted Draco on the shoulder with a slowly sobering touch. She could feel the cool evening breeze on the back of her neck and shivered in reply. He quickly sat up to heed to her body's demands.

"I'll close the window," he told her, causing her to sit back down just as she had moved her feet towards the edge of the bed. Draco moved toward the window pane but just as he reached to close the window, something black and wispy darted up and knocked him in the chin. His head jerked back and knocked itself against Hermione's armoire and he slumped down to the ground. His vision lost focus as Hermione launched herself from the bed to his aid. Before she could reach him, the worst that could've happened, happened. A string of darkness wrapped itself around Hermione's mouth and prevented her from screaming. It then dragged her into it's misty shadow and proceeded to pull her out the window. Draco lay helpless, his conscience fading and his limbs losing all feeling.

"Hermione," he managed to finally say as her body was pulled out the window.


	14. Out of Control

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

To Keep it Simple

**Previous Chapter**

_"I'll close the window," he told her, causing her to sit back down just as she had moved her feet towards the edge of the bed. Draco moved toward the window pane but just as he reached to close the window, something black and wispy darted up and knocked him in the chin. His head jerked back and knocked itself against Hermione's armoire and he slumped down to the ground. His vision lost focus as Hermione launched herself from the bed to his aid. Before she could reach him, the worst that could've happened, happened. A string of darkness wrapped itself around Hermione's mouth and prevented her from screaming. It then dragged her into it's misty shadow and proceeded to pull her out the window. Draco lay helpless, his conscience fading and his limbs losing all feeling. _

_ "Hermione," he managed to finally say as her body was pulled out the window._

**Chapter 13-** Out of Control

Hermione struggled to loosen the heavy burdens around her wrists and ankles. She pressed her eyelids together tightly, her long eyelashes brushing against her cheeks. She needed to focus her vision to be able to concentrate and perhaps find out exactly what had literally swept her away. Even though a strangely dire emergency had just occurred, she was slow to believe in it's seriousness and was not near the peak of fear that she should have been at. She squirmed amongst the clutter that she was forced against. Whatever she was lying upon, it moved back in return. Shivers suddenly awakened her senses and caused her skin to crawl with disgust.

"Awake?" a figure called from an armchair in the opposite corner. Hermione opened one eye, then the other, testing out the brilliance of the lighting of the room. A roaring fire set the room aflame but so many nooks and crannies were left in shadow that she was unsure of exactly where the voice was coming from. She tried to move herself out of the tight hold that kept her in place but her resistance was futile so she fell back into her lifeless stupor.

She heard footsteps approach and the rustling of cloth.

"Mm.. the effects of my umbramotum are definitely proving to be beneficial. But not to worry, you'll be alive long enough to suffer just as much as I have suffered."

Hermione suddenly lurched up from her laid down position but was jerked back by the cloud surrounding her.

"That's enough!" the voice shrieked in frustration, a burst of light suddenly emitting from the tip of the stranger's wand. It lit up the corner of the room long enough for Hermione to see the identity of her captor and see the mist around her shrivel in pain.

"Pansy?" she groggily asked.

Draco struggled into a sitting position as the realization of the recent brutal events drove into him with a force of a runaway bludger. He slammed the palm of his hand into his forehead, careless of the pain that it would cause because none would compare to the growing ache in the pit of his abdomen. Why hadn't he seen it coming?

"So, the git joins us back in reality," an all too familiar voice snarled from the doorway.

"Weasley!" he snapped in reply, leaning against Hermione's armoire to ease himself into a standing position. He held the back of his head and held in a breath of surprise. Malfoys did not feel pain. But then again, he wasn't the primest example of a Malfoy.

Ron flicked the lamp light on and bathed the room in light. Draco cursed as he realized what the sticky red substance that coated his hands was. He glanced around, unsure of what to wipe his hands off on—but then pushed that errand aside after catching sight of the open window.

"Glad to know that you've finally caught up with us," Ron said coldly, folding his arms across his chest. Harry walked in, breathless and hair amuck. Thick black pads wrapped around his legs and arms and on his hands were two gloves. His hand was clutched tightly to his treasured broomstick and as he gathered his breath, Draco took several wobbly steps forward.

"I've told Dumbledore—" he began, but stopped as Draco's expression turned from one of confusion to one of dire restraint.

"You told Dumbledore?" the Slytherin asked in a demanding tone. Harry let go of his broomstick and raised his hands offensively, feeling the bump of the broom against his side seconds later.

"It's for Hermione's sake," he said as his brow furrowed in distaste.

Several thoughts proceeded to scream into Draco's subconscious. Hermione had been assaulted and taken away by a creature of only evil's doings and Dumbledore was at that very moment, climbing to Gryffindor tower alongside Professor McGonagall. Draco could wait for things to lay themselves out before him and risk his chance of becoming head boy for the next year by being eliminated as an option for his reckless behavior—or take matters into his own hands and find Hermione himself. Being patient and waiting for wizard and witch elders was the wiser choice—but Malfoys were never known for making wise decisions. Draco's eyes darted to Harry's vulnerable broom as seconds passed and his patience began to dwindle. Although it would've seemed as though Draco cared about Hermione enough to carelessly go after her on his own—Draco was doing quite the opposite. He was _worried_ about Hermione but he was more worried about what his family would think of the entire ordeal. Without giving love and logic a second chance, he lurched out and jerked Harry's broomstick from beneath the seeker's nose.

"What—What are you doing you—" Harry began as both he and Ron began to approach Draco.

"What's best," he sneered. Draco pulled the broom in front of him while raising it to lay it down horizontally in the air. He slammed it into Ron and Harry's guts as roughly as possible—enough to knock them to the ground and into fetal positions in a muddle of moans and groans. He tossed the two a wavering glare and rushed to the window ledge.

"Send Dumbledore my regards," he said with a sarcastic salute and sneer. Then, ignoring common sense and only focusing on his window of opportunity, he leapt from the sill and into the night.

Harry lifted himself off the ground, resting against the bed for support. He breathed in heavily and aided his companion into a standing position much like his. The two clutched their stomachs and stared at one another in distress.

"If that good for nothing prick doesn't bring Hermione back in one piece—" Ron began as he tried his best to ball his hands into fists. Harry placed a hand up to stop him.

"I have a feeling that he's the one who got her taken away in the first place," Harry said angrily.

"Always trying to be so clever—well he doesn't need a smart wife! He just need a wife who's dedicated to him and _isn't_ just a _filthy mudblood. _Well your brain won't get you out of this one—but I'm sure my umbramotum here will enjoy crushing it into a pulp," Pansy said, every syllable dripping with spite. Hermione shook her head and focused on trying to remain awake. She reached for her wand but realized that she'd left it on her table after walking back into her room with Draco. Without any form of protection or defense, she suddenly felt very vulnerable and all the panic that should have risen before conveniently decided to drown her at that very moment. She gasped and tried to hold in the scream that was building in her throat.

"No questions? Good," Pansy said as she narrowed her eyes and stroked the wand in her hand. She stared at it as she held it up to the light, pure insanity dancing on her features. Hermione managed to regain control of her vocal cords but her body was still shaking of worry.

"Why—how—how did you do all of this?" Hermione suddenly asked, all her questions balled up into a gigantic one that she hoped Pansy would be stupid enough to spend time answering. She could try to stall and wait until somebody realized that only _this _room emitted diabolic laughter and ramblings about suffering. Then again—they were probably in the Slytherin house and she could have bet all the galleons she had saved up that this was common if not expected behavior.

Pansy glared at Hermione and rushed towards the trapped Gryffindor. She delivered a hefty kick into Hermione's side and caused Hermione to yell out in pain and curl onto her side. The shadowy mist about her winced as well but was obviously not feeling as much displeasure as Hermione.

"Don't ask useless questions," Pansy warned as she backed away. She returned to gazing into the fire as Hermione tried to lull her pain into a scratching numbness. She suddenly realized that the umbramotum had slightly loosened it's hold on her body and was no longer trying to constrict her and cut off her breathing.

"How did you conjure up an umbramotum?" Hermione finally asked after deliberating whether or not to for several minutes. Curiosity was getting the best of her and it was doing well to take away some of the pain. Pansy smirked in response to the question and pulled her hands up to her chest, folding them elegantly one atop the other.

"A question worth answering," she said proudly—but with a hint of hidden malice. "I knew about his powers before anybody else."

Hermione's heart nearly burst from her chest as Pansy acknowledged the coexistence of another evil in her coniving plan of insanity. Could it possibly be..? She blinked—but they had defeated him so many times and had been guaranteed his death with their last battle that it wasn't possible for him to still be alive. ..

"He was clueless—but that just makes me love him even more. Before he met _you_ he was perfectly normal.. but then you came along and ruined everything for him—_everything_. Even though he didn't know, I was the one by his side—I was the one who knew about it—I was the one who researched it—not you—not you ever!" Pansy screeched, picking up a candle from the fireplace mantle and turning to throw it at Hermione. It hit the Gryffindor squarely in the shoulder and although it did not look the least bit dangerous, Hermione could feel the bruise appearing. She bit her tongue to keep herself from allowing any sounds of pain to escape from her lips and provoke Pansy into throwing more.

The Slytherin sniffed as she quickly fixed her hair and clothes and turned back to staring into the fire.

"I sat by his bed every night and I would watch him sleep. One day he would wake up after a nightmare—see me—and realize that we were meant for each other—and you were never supposed to be in the picture."

Once again, Pansy shifted her attention to Hermione, but this time did well to hide her rage. Hermione prepared for another blow but received none.

"But it was for his own good. He never _loved_ you. He told me himself. You're just another prop to use so he can become successful and richer then his parents—then he'll buy us a house and we'll have _pureblood_ children and we'll be happy forever. He's _my _Draco and _you _tried to take him away!" Pansy shrieked. She pointed a shaking and accusing finger at the Gryffindor squirming with pure panic on the floor.

Hermione heard the name "Draco" and felt the blood run cold to her fingers. She had joked about Pansy being obsessive—but to this level? Hermione's breathing grew faster but she managed to control herself and prevent any screams.

"But not to worry—not to worry. I'll set things right. I'll make sure Draco loves me and you'll _never_ get in the way again."

Draco had flown around the premises of the school to check for any hints of a struggle between a dark creature and a witch. He had figured that he wouldn't find anything—but he had to give it a try. His mind was trying to run to two places at once and he couldn't control where his thoughts wandered anymore. As he floated in the air around Hogwarts, his conscience screamed and trashed inside of him, wrecking his focus and causing him to drift closer and closer to inanimate objects. Draco quickly pulled to the left just before he collided with a tower wall and tried to land somewhere safe where he couldn't hurt himself. He imagined that the warnings in his head were part of his ability to dream things at night. If Hermione was in trouble—it would make perfect sense if his unique ability suddenly kicked in.

Draco landed on the ground. The closer he drifted away from the top floor of the castle, the less the pain ebbed at his head. He took a staggering leap off the broom and collapsed onto the ground, the broom falling on top of him. As he moved to stand up, brief flashes of strange scenerios burst alight in his head. He crumpled to the ground and curled into a fetal position, clutching his temples as the brief glitches became worse and worse.

Something bright— fire—the flames were leaping back and forth but before he could focus it switched to another image. A dark corner—no, there was something moving in it. He tried to focus again but was rejected in a fashion likewise the previous glimpse. Another image—a bed—it was too dark to note specific details but before he could even bother to remember the image much less look at it—it disappeared. His eyes suddenly shot open as the images stopped. He quickly scrambled to stand up, sending Harry's broom into the air. He now knew one thing—the umbramotum hadn't taken Hermione far. There wasn't another sign of civilization for miles and it hadn't been _that_ long since he'd been first knocked out. It must have taken Hermione somewhere else inside Hogwarts—where there was only enough room for _one_ bed.

Harry and Ron watched as Dumbledore directed the other staff members in what to do as they all stood, crushed in Hermione's one bed room. As the teachers slowly departed—including a very disgruntled Snape—Harry and Ron were left alone with Dumbledore. He looked at his two Gryffindor students from over the rim of his spectacles and raised his white brows.

"I expect that the both of you would like to join in this literal witch hunt?" the wizard asked, throwing in a pun even in a situation so dire as this. Harry and Ron both nodded and followed Dumbledore as he left the room.

"Make sure that every Gryffindor is in their room and not wandering about," he told them as they reached the door to the common room. Harry and Ron groaned in protest at the simple-minded command.

"But sir—you know that both Ron and I are capable of doing so much more—this is Hermione we're talking about! She's our greatest friend and the least you could do is let us help look around for her," Harry pleaded. Dumbledore shook his head and turned to leave.

"This is an equally important errand. Hogwarts may have to close for the rest of the school year if there are any more disappearances. If Hermione is not found by tomorrow morning—her parents will be alerted and as will as the board members of the Ministry of Magic.."

Harry and Ron nodded in understanding but not in approval. Dumbledore nodded in regards in response and slowly made his way down the hall.

Ron turned towards Harry with a quirked brow.

"What year have I _not_ heard Dumbledore say that Hogwarts might have to close?" he asked. Harry shrugged and patted his companion on the shoulder.

"We should get busy," he said with a sigh. "Got to make sure those first years are all tucked in."

Hermione stifled her remarks of insult for later and instead, focused all her rage into a mental beating of Pansy. The object of her mind's assault scoffed and casually meandered over to Hermione's defenseless form.

"The umbramotum was supposed to end your life for me and make myself seem less suspicious. But it can't even do that—the worthless piece of—" Pansy stopped to point her wand at the umbramotum and strike it once again with a stream of light. It squirmed convulsively in pain once again but quickly reformed itself. Its grip on Hermione loosened a little more.

"Well, now it has allowed me the pleasure to kill you myself and show you just how much pain I went through while you were whoreing your body to Draco. Oh, you'll experience much worse though because a mudblood who thinks she deserves a pureblood needs to be taught a thing or two."

Hermione couldn't stop herself from putting up a brief struggle in response to Pansy's thoughtless statement. The Slytherin witch cackled—as her title gave her the opportunity to do—and launched her foot into Hermione's ribs again. Hermione bit her tongue again to keep herself from screaming of pain. She tasted blood in her mouth but the taste was easily numbed out by the increasing pain in her side. The umbramotum had given her more room to writhe in pain though—and Hermione realized this. Pansy stepped away and began to slowly pace the bedroom.

"I bet you're wondering how I—Pansy Parkinson—had enough power to conjure up an umbramotum. I'm sure Draco's already told you all about it—the umbramotum that is. His father was rumored to have made one himself—but who am I to be telling you family secrets before your death. I have to admit, although I am _very_ powerful, I'm not powerful enough to create such a creature… but a Malfoy is."

Hermione slowly caught onto Pansy's train of thought and beat Pansy to the finish, her eyes suddenly widening with a realization of the extent of Draco's power. He had gone on before about dreams—dreams that told about the future or about things that were sure to come—and she had read about it—but did Draco really possess such a power? She kept her jaw tightly jarred shut and waited for Pansy to finish her explanation.

"Draco Malfoy that is. I didn't sit around in his room every night and not learn anything from it. I wanted to touch him so badly—I wanted to show him that I cared and that I loved him more than you… so what better way to do that then get rid of _you _while getting in touch with him at the same time… Yes—Draco Malfoy—the Draco Malfoy that is part veela had enough power in him to conjure up an umbramotum. He doesn't know, of course, he's clueless and so is everyone else _but_ me.. Thanks to a little help from Professor Snape, I learned how to drain a person of their power."

Hermione's brow furrowed in both disgust and confusion. Pansy sounded all too much like the aging villain of a cliché spy movie. She stifled her comments and tried to focus more on how to escape the grasp of the umbramotum.

"Every day at lunch—I mixed his drink with a potion that would release his powers at night. He probably knew about it because my Draco is a genius and why else would he waste his time talking to you like he cared… He pulled off quite a good act too—but I knew—I knew he was acting! What better way to look inconspicuous than to have the love of his life kill his tramp! He's a genius. He's my genius. He knew about this all the long and he wants you dead just as much as I do."

At the mention of Draco having been apart of the entire plot both frightened and crushed her—but after listening to another five minutes of Pansy's delirious ranting, her faith in Draco reblossomed and she returned her focus to an escape.

"When he fell asleep, I would unlock his door and sit by his side. Then, I'd wait for his powers to start leaving him. Without powers, he couldn't have dreams that would warn you about what I was doing—and he couldn't have dreams about _you._ He had a couple measly dreams about you and thought he loved you—but no, his dreams were confusing him. They were lying to him—they were trying to trick him."

Hermione suddenly felt the umbramotum loosen its hold on her after her continuous struggling. She was both surprised and relieved, but quickly took advantage of the situation and waited for Pansy to stop talking.

"Then I collected his power day by day—and I had enough to make an umbramotum by the end of the week. He barely showed signs of fatigue—because my Draco is strong and he knows that it's all for the best," Pansy finally concluded. Hermione had had enough of her psychotic lecture and pondered having ever feared Pansy beforehand.

"And now it's time to end it all and kill you so I can have my Draco.."

"You're crazy, you worthless twit," Hermione suddenly said, putting up a decent act of looking as though the umbramotum still her possession of her. Pansy's nostrils flared at the comment and her eyes narrowed. She began walking towards Hermione, her stride short and steady.

"He locked his door for a reason! So crazy psychotic.. insane.. mutts like you couldn't get in," Hermione blurted out, searching for comments nasty enough to provoke Pansy.

"He locked his door to keep you out! You're the one who wants to steal him!" she screeched, her hand slowly rising with wand in tow. Hermione dared to laugh at Pansy's antics.

"Draco loves _me_ and rejected you in front of the entire school—I don't have to steal him, he comes to me whenever I want," Hermione said, pushing her mental boundaries to the limit. She laughed again—a short and hard laugh that irked Pansy like none other.

"You'll regret saying that!" Pansy threatened. "Relashio!"

Hermione quickly recognized the spell as one used to repel grindylows—one that sent out sparks.. of light. She blinked but without thinking twice, rolling to the side, leaving the umbramotum vulnerable and without any way to defend itself in such a short time. The shadow seemed to shriek and with a rippling effect, writhed into a complete nothing. Hermione could not tell for sure though because the sparks had only lasted for so long and the corner was bathed in darkness again.

"You little useless—" Pansy screamed as she tried to fire another spell at Hermione. The Gryffindor rolled to the side again, reaching out for anything convenient. She grabbed hold of something smooth and heavy. Grabbing it, she managed to throw it at Pansy before Pansy could attack again. As she toppled over from the sheer surprise of it all, Hermione stood up and ran towards the door.

She'd thrown a Quidditch practice glove. Draco's Quidditch practice glove.

Draco had checked Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw's prefects' rooms in what seemed like a matter of seconds. He was completely out of breath and it took all of his strength to rush along the hallways with Harry's broom in his hand. There were only two rooms left—Gryffindor and Slytherin and they were obviously not hiding in Hermione's room. Using the process of elimination, he concluded that Hermione had been taken to _his_ room… but why?

He took the steps two at a time, praying that the stairs wouldn't suddenly move beneath him and stagger his process. As he arrived at the Slytherin house's hallway, he took several minutes to breathe and recollected his thoughts. He uttered the password, darted into the empty common room and directly to his room. He tried the door knob. It was locked. Taking a step back, he pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the lock.

"Alohomora!" he said as he heard the gears work their magic inside the knob. He placed his palm on the brass handle and turned it, opening it just in time to receive a deadly blow from Pansy's wand.

"Look at what you've made me do!" Pansy shrieked uproariously. Hermione watched as Draco collapsed to the ground, stunned and have lost control of his body parts.

"You did it, you idiotic dolt!" Hermione yelled in response, quickly crawling forward to cradle Draco's head in her lap. She couldn't leave him alone with Pansy after having heard her plans for him—and the extent she was willing to go to ensure that her dreams came true. She searched for Draco's wand in the pocket of his slacks but it wasn't there. How had he unlocked the door then? Pansy walked closer, wand pointed at Hermione.

"Now you'll pay for everything you've done!" Pansy warned as Hermione searched desperately for any source of aid. Finding nothing but carpet and the silent response of sleeping students, she waited for her impending doom.

"Stupefy!" she heard Pansy say.

But nothing happened. When she turned her head up to look at Pansy, she was greeted with a statue still Pansy. The wand was frozen in her hand. It was pointed not at Hermione, but something behind her. Hermione slowly turned around and saw Draco standing very much alive and moving about as though he'd never been shocked. He turned to look at her but his eyes weren't their usual grey. It was more of.. a black. She blinked, still feeling the burden of something in her lap. When she looked down, Draco lay in her lap.

The umbramotum, she thought to herself. When she turned to look again, it was gone and Draco's wand lay alongside her hand. She blinked in confusion but said nothing and allowed fate to work it's magic once again. The common room was suddenly quiet and as Hermione glanced around, surrounded by people but feeling so alone at the same time, she let her reserves collapse and fainted.

The last day at Hogwarts left all students drained from final exams and full from a final meal in the dining hall. Hermione finished packing her things and set her trunk down alongside her cat's cage. She sat down on her prefect's bed one last time and sighed. Quite a lot had happened this year and now that she was leaving with an adventure and defeat of her own to remember, she realized that she had gotten off quite well.

As for Pansy—the Parkinsons had been alerted immediately and they had been forced to floo powder their way from the premises to the insane asylum—where Pansy was placed for the rest of her recovering years. She had made quite a tantrum on her way out, clawing at any available student and screeching out words that nobody could understand. Her parents had left with their cheeks flushed with embarassment and claiming that Pansy had grown up a unique child.

For once, Harry and Ron had not been commended for their efforts in solving a dire crisis. Instead, Hermione had received all the credit and all the attention as well. They were still a close knit package and the two refused to leave her side during recovery. All other problems were handled by Dumbledore as to what exactly did happen and who to tell the story to. Hermione still wondered about where the umbramotum had gone to. She had mentioned it—briefly—to those who asked but it played a minor role in her story, even though it had played a major role in her life.

Draco had recovered in the clinic where Harry and Ron managed to resolve their conflict with him. Although they were not near close to becoming good friends, at least they no longer yelled derrogatory terms while passing one another in the hall. Hermione had gained much attention- though she claimed that the only thing she was worried about was not having enough time to study for exams. In actuality, she had much to think about other then exams.

"May I come in?" Draco asked as he rapped gently on the door frame. "Potter and Weasley said I'd find you here."

Hermione nodded and scooted aside for Draco to sit down. He fell onto the mattress alongside her, bouncing up and down as if testing it for the first time.

"Ah—this bed holds quite a few unforgettable memories," he said with a devilish smirk. Hermione did not see the humor in his antics and turned towards him with a look of serious thought. His expression turned from witty to dire.

"We need to talk," she said.

Draco had taken his time walking down the hall to the Gryffindor common room. After hearing Hermione recount her experience with Pansy and then having had her bruises revealed by Madame Pomfrey since Hermione was too modest to reveal them herself, the staff was all too quick to send Pansy away. As for Professor Snape, he had pleaded innocent and not having had anything to do with the entire plan. Dumbledore trusted the potion teacher's word so Snape had happily left to linger around in his dungeon.

After all of this, Draco still managed to maintain the level of respect that he had had for Snape since day one—none. He met Harry and Ron at the entrance to the common room. Before the portrait of the Fat Lady could close, Harry mentioned that Hermione was still trudging about in her room. Draco nodded in response and shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

"May I come in?" he asked. He'd never spoken politely to anyone in his entire life—including her parents. Never a 'please' or a 'May I'.. only with her.. "Potter and Weasley said I'd find you here."

He took a seat beside her. She seemed completely relaxed but so tense at the same time. He tried to keep his careless demeanor and bounced several times on the mattress.

"Ah—this bed holds quite a few unforgettable memories," and then he smirked.

She looked at him and she was deadly serious.

"We need to talk," she said. Draco, as if knowing what was about to come, grew speechless.

Hermione had taken the entire rest of the year to think over her decision. She didn't want to go through all the emotions and the clichés so she quickly tried to end it.

"Draco—it's not smart for us to stay together."

As bluntly as she could've been, she said it. She wanted to mentally slap herself and throw her body to the ground from regret—but she'd concluded that they weren't good for one another and it was best that they stayed as distanced as they had before. After all she'd said and all she'd done—not only was she a hypocrite but she was running away from all her problems instead of having to face them. It was the most convenient thing to do. She made Draco too vulnerable and it wasn't in his style to be that way. There would be problems with his family and problems with her family and soon enough there'd be problems everywhere and Hermione wasn't prepared to handle any thing at the moment. Even if she was proving Pansy's belief that she didn't Draco right—she loved him but she didn't love him _enough. _She didn't love him enough to sacrifice everything she had worked for. Hermione knew she sounded selfish but inside she felt that separating from Draco would be more for his benefit then hers. After so much suffering and convincing and giving and receiving..

Draco blinked in response to her statement and remained speechless. His shoulders rose as he took in a deep breath of air. Hermione hadn't expected Draco to react to her decision at all—much less care. She hadn't planned it to be so blunt but her feminine side raged out and demanded a reaction from Draco—in what ever way possible that Hermione could get it. There was an awkward silence that lasted ages before Draco finally nodded and stood up. He pushed his hands into his pockets and without even asking for an explanation, walked to the door to leave. He turned around to say something before departing but closed his mouth.

When Hermione looked up, he was gone. She stood up and walked to the door frame, placing one hand against it to give her some support. No trace of him. She glanced down at the carpet and tilted her head to see the splotch of liquid on the ground. Was Draco possibly..? She watched as another one formed and quickly stepped back, her eyes growing wide. Her hand touched her cheek and pulled away, her fingers frosted with tears.

Draco had no way to respond. He had been caught completely off guard—but then again, he knew that this would have to have happened sooner or later—and seeing as that he hadn't planned on breaking up with her any time soon, it only made sense that she would initiate the separation. He could only stare at her and mentally plead her to help him keep the walls from building around him again.

He had to admit. He had wrecked havoc on her life—he had nearly ruined it and brought it crumbling down. His obsessive Slytherin companion had planned a plot so intricate that Draco had to admit that it had been completely unheard of. Knowing that he had involuntarily been involved in Hermione's kidnapping was also a depressing surprise. However, after all they had managed to fight through together—he hadn't expected it to end so soon. Their adolescent lives were barely beginning and already Hermione had signaled that the game was over and she wanted out. He couldn't blame her. He wouldn't blame her. Without any questions or comments, he stood up, all of his self control focusing on that one action—the one action that would take him out her door and into the whatever else waited for him.

Draco stopped at the doorway. He wanted to say something, anything—maybe even a witty suggestion to lighten the mood, but he couldn't. He watched Hermione's eyes slowly film over with a layer of water and proceeded to make a hasty departure, not wanting to be lured into her essence again. As he walked down the hall he began to recount everything that had happened between them. He had admitted his love for her—him, Draco Malfoy—not a sensitive walks-on-the-beach loving stranger. Could his love had been real, though? Maybe he was so caught up in the moment and having experienced any feeling other then hate or spite, had welcomed it with wide arms. After all, he could have been dreaming of Hermione at night because she was to play a role in a very serious situation that was technically, life threatening. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while his other remained shoved deep into his pocket. Whatever it had been, he was going to forget about it. He had to focus on other things.

Hermione leaned her head against the window as the compartment rocked back and forth. Harry and Ron had dozed off after fulfilling their appetites with pounds of candy and refreshments. Hermione had passed on the offer, but now she wished she'd eaten something so that sleep would come easier. She regretted every second of the past several hours but what was in the past was in the past. The tears were all gone now and it felt like her eyes had dried up. She glanced out the window and watched as they approached a tunnel. With a sigh, she closed her eyes.

Something brushed past her knuckles.

She opened her eyes and met gray pools of steel.

And then the compartment grew dark as the engine drove into the tunnel.

Author's note: Yes, as of June 13, 2004, I did change the titles of the chapters and I did delete all the author's notes. I wanted it to look cleaner and more composed and was actually trying to avoid writing another chapter for the sequel. I SWEAR, I SWEAR, I will get to it. Plus, the lyrical titles were not only wrong, because I'm an idiot, but they were sort of lame. =( Yes, sorry to say, they were a little over used and I couldn't stand being one of those authors who abuses the lyrics so horribly. Well, anyways, enjoy the barely changed, but NEW, version and I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it.


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